(LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 
•  SAN  DIEGO 


RED    HEAD 


R 


ED    HEAD 


RED    HEAD 


JSyJOHN   URI    LLOYD 

Author  of  "  STRINGTOWN  ON  THE  PIKE," 
"WARWICK   OF   THE    KNOBS,"   etc. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  AND  DECORATIONS  BY 

REGINALD     B.     BIRCH 


NEW    YORK    •    DODD,    MEAD 
AND     COMPANY    •    MCMIII 


Copyright,  spoj 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

Published  October,  1903 


UNIVERSITY    PRESS     •    JOHN    WILSON 
AND    SON     •    CAMBRIDGE,    U.S.A. 


PREFACE 

TO  readers  of  "  Stringtown  on  the 
Pike,"  the  boy  "Red  Head" 
needs  no  introduction.  To 
the  author,  the  study  of  this  moun 
tain  lad  was  intensely  interesting,  as  a 
part  of  old-time,  local  conditions,  familiar 
from  childhood.  But  he  hardly  dared 
hope  that  the  fragmentary  description  of 
his  homely  life  could  afford  more  than  a 
passing. interest  to  others,  who  might  find 
it  difficult  to  believe  that  a  character  so 
unique  was  drawn  almost  from  life,  as 
typical  of  a  class  still  lingering  in  the 
mountains  of  Eastern  Kentucky.  And 
yet  he  did  hope  that  some  would  per 
ceive  that  behind  the  story  rested  a 
serious  attempt  to  preserve  for  students 


Preface 

of  Americana  some  bit  of  that  primitive 
color  which,  so  far  as  its  lawlessness  is 
concerned,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  is  destined 
ere  long  to  fade  away. 

As  a  pleasant  surprise  came,  then, 
many  cordial  letters  of  inquiry  for  further 
information  regarding  this  little  under 
stood  people,  and  many  appeals  for  the 
whole  story  of"  Red  Head,"  apart  from 
the  setting  in  which  he  was  formerly 
placed.  As  a  result  of  these  letters  and 
inquiries  has  come  the  evolution  of  the 
present  volume. 

In  order  to  bring  the  reader  into  sym 
pathetic  touch  with  the  conditions  sur 
rounding  "  Red  Head,"  of  which  he  was 
a  part  by  heritage,  as  well  as  by  training 
in  traditions  held  sacred  by  his  people,  it 
was  found  necessary  to  place  the  events 
narrated  in  Part  I,  in  a  time  long  pre 
ceding  that  of  "  Red  Head  "  himself. 
For  so  strange  is  the  code  still  main- 


/* 


Preface 

tained  in  its  lurid  integrity  by  some 
persons  in  the  land  of  his  birth,  that  only 
by  a  comprehension  of  its  ideals  and 
responsibilities,  as  accepted  by  them,  and 
which  made  "  Red  Head"  what  he  was, 
can  one  properly  understand  this  lonely 
mountain  boy.  Inured  to  dangers  and 
deeds  of  violence,  and  hunted  like  a  wild 
animal  from  his  tenderest  years,  he  came 
at  last  to  be  the  sole  survivor  of  his 
faction,  on  whom  alone  it  devolved  to 
maintain  their  honor,  in  the  only  way 
recognized  by  them. 

For  one  familiar  with  life  such  as  this, 
it  would  have  been  an  easy  matter  to  fill 
these  pages  with  the  scenes  of  cruelty 
and  vengeance  that  shadow  the  feudist's 
way.  More  difficult  it  was,  but  the 
author  hopes  more  useful,  and  not  less 
interesting,  to  portray  the  home  life  of 
this  misguided  people  in  such  a  way  as 
to  give  touches,  by  inference  alone,  of 


^  ;  :r 
n&y£  &* 


Preface 

the  pain  and  sorrow  that  has  ever  been 
their  lot. 

Tracing  the  origin  of  the  feud  back  to 
mediaeval  English  warfare  may  be  criti 
cised  as  far-fetched,  and  lacking  historical 
proof.      With  this  the  author  takes  no 
issue.      It  may  be  considered  in  the  light 
of  an  imaginative  touch,  intended  to  show 
the  trivial   nature  of  events  which  have 
more  than  once  involved  families  of  wide 
relationship  in   a  warfare  lasting  till  the 
very  tradition  of  the  origin  of  the  diffi 
culty  has  been  lost  in  obscurity.     And  yet 
it  must  not  be  overlooked  that  in  many 
rural  sections  of  our  country  are  still  pre 
served  customs,  traditions,  superstitions, 
and   words   once   common    in    England, 
but  long  since  become  obsolete  in    that 
land.     To  an  unusual  degree  is  this  true 
of  certain  localities  in  Kentucky.     Fifty 
years   ago   ballads  were  still  sung  there, 
very  like  the  famous  Old  English  Ballads. 


Preface 

The  cross-bow  was  not  unknown  in  the 
hunting  of  small  game,  where  the  author 
was  reared.  Clannishness  was  prevalent 
throughout  the  Cumberland  range  to  a 
degree  perhaps  unknown  elsewhere  in  the 
United  States,  and  religious  discussions 
were  carried  on  with  an  intensity  that  can 
hardly  be  realized.  Customs  have  changed 
much  since  then,  but  secluded  places 
may  still  be  found  in  which  these  very 
conditions  prevail. 

This  introductory  note  would  be  in 
complete  did  the  author  neglect  to  express 
his  special  thanks  to  the  friends  of  the 
Red  Head  of  Stringtown,  who,  learning 
of  the  proposed  volume,  and  fearing 
radical  changes  in  the  creation  now  in 
print,  have  written  urging  strongly  that 
the  character  there  portrayed  be  not 
sacrificed.  It  is  due  these  friends  to  say 
that  the  author  deeply  feels  their  thought 
ful  appreciation,  and  trusts  that  enough 


Preface 

of  the  original  work  has  been  retained  to 
maintain  the  vitality  of  the  established 
plot,  and  to  preserve  Red  Head's  per 
sonality.  To  have  sacrificed  Red  Head, 
as  already  introduced  to  the  world,  would 
have  been  as  unpardonable  as  to  attempt 
to  ignore  family  traditions  or  to  soften 
methods  and  ideals  that  led  inexorably 
to  the  final  result. 

J.  U.   L. 


CHAPTER 

I. 
II. 


III. 

IV. 

V. 
VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 


PAGE 


CONTENTS 

The  Messenger  of  Peace    . 
"Yo'  caint    marry  Martha    Hoi- 
comb  " 

The  Witch  of  the  Waterfall  .      . 
"  I  says  the  weddin'  's  got  ter  take 

place " 

The  Beginning  of  a  Feud    . 

u  It  's     pow'ful    hard,    this     feud 

'twixt  yo  'uns  and  we  'uns  "  .     54 
"A  Devilish  Impudent  Fellow"    .      64 

Red  Head 73 

"I'm  the  last  Red  Head"  .  .  81 
Red  Head  defends  Susie  ...  97 
I  prescribe  for  Mr.  Nordman  .  .106 

Red  Head  triumphs 116 

Sammy's  Promise 126 


16 

27 
37 


Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIV.  The  Professor  of  Chemistry       .      133 

XV.     Holcomb 148 

XVI.     The  Second  Journey  to  Witch 
Merrie's  Cave      .... 
XVII.     "  There  '11  be  trouble  in  String- 
town  County  next  week"  . 
XVIII.     Stringtown  County  Court  . 
XIX.     The  Conviction  of  Red  Head 
XX.    The  Vision  of  Red  Head  . 


160 


168 
176 
181 
199 


Epilogue 207 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

RED  HEAD Frontispiece 

"Fam'ly  honor  don't  wear  out  till  et  's 

fought  out ! " Facing  page  40 

Raising  his    clenched    fist,    he    shook    it 

viciously "          6z 

Chinney  Bill  Smith.  "Sammy,"  he  said  "  86 
Susie,  with  the  eyes  of  Susie  of  old  .  .  «*  102 
"May  I  have  the  flower  ?"  .  .  .  .  "  118 

"Cannot  you    handle  a  Springfield  rifle 

yet?"         "         126 

She  seated   herself  on  the  heavy  timber- 
sill       ' "        154 

"  Go    to    Stringtown    as    the   girl    asks, 
Holcomb" 

The  right  hand  of  the  old  man  suddenly 
drew  a  pistol 


RED    HEAD 

CHAPTER    I 

THE    MESSENGER    OF    PEACE 

THE  man  was  tall  and  lank, 
dark  skinned,  roughly  bearded 
and  coarsely  dressed ;  a  typical 
mountaineer,  as  the  mountaineer  may 
even  yet  be  found  in  the  uplands  of 
Eastern  Kentucky.  He  had  travelled 
all  day  from  mountain  home  to  moun 
tain  home,  stopping  at  each  cabin  only 
long  enough  to  deliver  his  message  and 
to  take  a  bite  of  corn  bread  or  a  draught 
of  liquor. 

"  Pass  the  word  'round,"  he  would 
say,  and  would  then  trudge  onward. 
Thus,  from  dawn  to  sunset  he  passed, 
through  the  mountain  gorges,  over  the 
divides,  into  the  depths  of  the  forests. 


#\ 


Red  Head 

At  length,  as  dusk  came  down,  he 
reached  a  cabin  separated  only  by  a 
hog-back  ridge  from  his  own  home, 
which  he  had  left  that  morning  to  start 
on  his  journey.  The  circuit  had  been 
completed ;  this  was  the  last  cabin  to 
be  visited. 

A  red-faced  man,  with  a  great  shock 
of  tangled  red  hair,  met  him  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in,  Holcomb,"  said  the  host. 
"  I  'm  mighty  glad  ter  see  you." 

Holcomb  was  not  long  in  making 
known  his  errand.  "  Thar  '11  be  sar- 
vices  down  in  the  creek  meetin'  house 
next  Sunday.  Bring  the  folks  and  pass 
the  word  'round." 

"Who's  ter  preach?" 

"  A  new  man  from  down  the  state," 
rejoined  Holcomb.  "  He  's  said  ter  be 
pow'ful  strong." 

"  Guess  he  caint  beat  Pappy  Jeems." 
I  ain't  jedgin'  his  qualities,  Red,  but 


The  Messenger  of  Peace 

I  'm  told  he's  got  a  lot  of  book  larnin'." 
He  glanced  about  quickly,  and  saw  that 
Red's  wife  was  sitting  close  by,  listening, 
so  he  moved  significantly  to  the  door. 
His  host  followed,  and  the  two  went 
out  into  the  open  air. 

"They  say,  Red,"  said  Holcomb, 
after  a  pause,  "  thet  this  preacher's  got 
a  queer  religion,  too.  He  don't  holler 
a  bit,  but  jest  talks  like  es  ef  he  war 
settin'  ter  home,  lookin'  yo'  in  the  eye, 
He  don't  seem  to  keer  whether  we  'uns 
air  Baptists  er  Presb'terians,  er  Meth'- 
dists  er  what  not,  er  whether  we  're 
bound  fer  up  er  down,  'cordin'  ter  Par 
son  Jeems  er  any  other  preacher.  He 
jest  preaches  thet  God  '11  take  keer  of 
us  in  the  next  world  ef  we  '11  take  keer 
of  ourselves  proper-like  in  this,  but  thet 
we  Ve  got  ter  stop  shootin'  an'  fightin' 
before  we  begin  our  pray  in',  ef  we  ex 
pects  any  show  in  the  next  world." 
3 


s&- 

LH;'^ 

W- '?.*<&*»* 


Red  Head 

"  How  '11  the  folks  here-about  take 
sech  religion  ?  "  asked  Red.  "  Mebbe 
thet's  all  right  for  the  bottom  land 
people,  but  seems  ter  me  et's  pow'ful 
out  of  place  in  the  moun'ns." 

"  Thet  's  what  I  'm  thinkin',"  assented 
Holcomb,  "an'  thet's  what  makes  his 
doctrine  dang'rous." 

"  Dang'rous  ter  we  'uns,  Holcomb?" 

"  No,  ter  the  new  preacher,"  said  the 
other,  drily.  "But  they  say  he's  grit 
and  talks  out,  right  in  the  face  of  men 
who  travel  with  thar  hands  on  thar  guns. 
He  don't  seem  ter  skeer  er  flinch  a  mite. 
He  jest  looks  a  man  in  the  eye  and  says 
his  say.  Queer  religion,  ain't  it,  Red, 
thet  consarns  itself  most  in  feedin'  and 
clothin*  children,  and  lovin'  a  feller  yo' 
wants  ter  shoot,  and  bein'  kind  ter 
neighbors  one  hates  like  sin." 

"  I  don't  see  much  religion  ter  sech 
preachin'  es  thet,"  replied  Red,  doggedly. 


*A' ,« 

-    s    -\s  '" 


The  Messenger  of  Peace 

"They  say,  Red,  thet  he  preached  a 
whole  sarmon  over  ter  Turkey  Foot, 
and  never  said  *  Hell '  oncet." 

"Thet's  awful  cur'ous  preachin'," 
said  Red,  shaking  his  head  thought 
fully,  "  but  I  '11  be  on  hand,  Holcomb, 
though  I  don't  take  much  stock  in  no 
sech  religion.  Parson  Jeems  es  good 
'nough  fer  me.  When  he  gits  through 
preachin',  a  feller  sees  devils  and  smells 
brimstun.  Ef  a  man  b'longs  ter  the 
church,  he's  bound  ter  go  ter  heaven, 
shoot  er  no  shoot.  And  ef  he  don't 
b'long  ter  the  church,  shootin'  and 

o 

killin'  a  man  don't  make  t'other  place  no 
hotter  fer  him.  Thet 's  good  religion, 
too.  I  guess  yo're  right,  Holcomb, 
this  new  preacher  hed  better  be  keerful." 
There  was  a  pause.  The  men  had 
exhausted  their  subject.  The  visitor 
started  to  move  on.  Then,  as  if  a  new 
thought  had  occurred  to  him,  he  hesi- 

o 

5 


Red  Head 

tated.  "By  the  way.,"  he  said,  "yore 
oldest  boy 's  pow'ful  sweet  on  our 
Martha,  and  I  've  obsarved  she  ain't 
shy  no  more  when  he 's  'bout.  Guess 
yo  Ve  noticed  'em,  though." 

At  this,  a  shadow  passed  over  the 
ruddy  face  of  the  cabin's  owner. 

"  Holcomb,  yo 're  right,"  he  said  at 
length.  "  I  've  noticed  them  chicks, 
and  now  's  the  best  time  fer  me  'n  you 
ter  talk  fam'ly  matters  over.  P'raps 
yo  've  noticed  thar  hain't  never  been 
a  weddin'  'twixt  we  'uns  and  yo  'uns." 
Holcomb's  countenance  hardened. 

"  Thar  ain't  no  reason  I  knows  of 
why  a  weddin'  shouldn't  be.  They're 
a  pow'ful  nice  couple,  and  both  fam'lies 
air  grit." 

"Thar  is  a  reason,  Deacon  Holcomb, 
and  till  et  's  settled,  my  boy  caint  marry 
inter  the  Holcombs." 

Holcomb    turned  quickly.      Deliber- 


"X/       7*?W«        #* 


The  Messenger  of  Peace 

ately  drawing  a  pistol,  he  shoved  its 
muzzle  close  to  the  face  of  Red.  But 
Red,  looking  him  straight  in  the  eye, 
showed  not  the  slightest  sign  of  fear. 
The  seconds  passed  until  Holcomb 
broke  the  silence. 

"  Yo'  don't  mean  ter  say  thet  disgrace^ 
of  no   kind    hangs   'bout   the   name    of 
Holcomb  ? " 

"  I  don't  say  nothin',  'cept  thet  some 
kind  of  a  reason  stands  'twixt  any  wed- 
din'  'twixt  we  'uns  and  yo  'uns." 

"  What  mought  be  thet  reason  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  reason  is,  er 
what  et  'mounts  ter,  Holcomb,  but  thar 
caint  be  no  weddin'  tell  et 's  settled, 
thet 's  flat."  Then  he  added,  "  Put  up 
yore  gun,  man,  the  time  ter  shoot  ain't 
come  yet." 

All  this  was  said  in  a  quiet,  even  tone, 
as  though  the  two  were  engaged  in  a 
friendly  conversation,  instead  of  facing 

7 


each  other  pistol  in  hand.  Then  Hoi- 
comb  slowly  lowered  and  replaced  his 
weapon. 

<f  Them    words    mean    thet    the    gun 

o 

comes  out  ag'in,  ef  thet  reason  touches 
the  Holcombs." 

"Thar '11  be  more'n  one  gun  pulled 
ef  shootin'  's  ter  be  did,"  replied  Red. 

"  P'raps  ;  but  let 's  git  ter  the  reason." 

"  The  reason  '11  be  ready  fer  the  next 
time  we  meet." 

For  a  moment  each   stood  as  though 

D 

undecided  about  the  next  movement. 

"Guess  yo're  right,"  said  Holcomb, 
at  last.  "  The  reason  kin  be  given  next 
time  we  meet,  but  I  wants  et  then  and 
I  wants  et  bad."  He  turned  to  go. 
"Be  sure  yo'  come  ter  hear  the  new 
preacher." 

"We'll  all  be  on  hand,"  said  Red, 
grimly. 


CHAPTER    II 

«YO'    CAINT    MARRY    MARTHA 
HOLCOMB  " 

WHEN  Holcomb's  tall  form 
had  disappeared  behind  a  turn 
in  the  path,  Red  made  no 
movement  toward  his  cabin.  He  stood 
silently  meditating,  until  another  man 
came  from  the  direction  in  which  Hoi- 
comb  had  departed.  Owing  to  the  dusk 
of  the  evening,  the  intruder  had  come 
very  near  before  his  presence  was  no 
ticed.  He  was  fairly  beside  Red  before 
the  latter  stepped  out,  barring  the  way. 

"  A  word  with  yo',  son,  before  yo'  go 
inter  the  cabin,"  said  Red,  placing    his 
hand  on  the  other's  arm. 
9 


AVV 


^- 


Red  Head 

"What  is  it,  dad?" 

"  'Peers  ter  me,  yo'  and  Martha  Hoi- 
comb  air  gittin'  right  sweet  on  each 
other." 

"  Well,  pap,"  answered  the  boy,  "  she  's 
a  pow'ful  nice  gearl." 

"  The  Holcombs  air  grit,  and  no  one 
kin  say  a  word  'g'inst  'em,  young  er  old. 
I  says,  too,  the  gearl 's  a  nice  one,"  ad 
mitted  Red. 

"  Thet  's  fact,  pap,  an'  thet  's  why  we 
shine  up  ter  each  other." 

"Yes,  I  says  all  thet,  but  thar  caint 
be  no  weddin'  'twixt  we  'uns  and  the 
Holcombs." 

"What  does  yer  mean,  dad?"  said 
the  young  man,  looking  anxiously  into 
his  father's  face. 

"  I  mean,"  said  Red,  doggedly,  avert 
ing  his  eyes,  "  thet  thar  air  reasons  fer 
what  I  says.  Yo'  caint  marry  Martha 
Holcomb." 


"Yo'  Caint  Marry  Martha" 

The  youth  started,  and  an  anxious 
pallor  came  over  his  face.  "  Dad,"  he 
said  quickly,  "  I  've  done  spoke  ter 
Martha,  and  she's  said  yes." 

"  I  says  thet  a  reason  stands  'twixt 
yo'  and  the  gearl,  son." 

"But  et's  too  late,  pap.  Don't  yo' 
see  ?  No  reason  kin  come  'twixt  we 


uns    now. 
"  Et  's 


a  pow'ful  reason,  son.  Et 
come  before  yo'  war  born,  —  before  I 
war  born.  Et  stands  'twixt  the  Hoi- 
combs  and  we  'uns,  es  et  hes  stood  fer 
God  knows  how  long,"  said  the  father, 
earnestly. . 

"  And  what  mought  et  be,  I  asks 
ag'in  ?  "  said  the  boy,  defiantly. 

"  Thet  I  don't  know,  fer  till  now  thar 
hain't  been  no  use  fer  askin'  nothin' 
'bout  et.  But  the  time 's  come,  Little 
Red,  the  time's  come."  He  turned  to 
enter  the  house,  but  the  younger  man 


l:^f^^3\; 

^^C-./i^fe^Si' 


rL*&#.     '•'        '.->  ' 


Red  Head 

caught  him  by  the  arm  with  a  grip  that 
could  not  be  shaken  off. 

"  Wait,"  said  Red,  "  we  '11  talk  of  et 
later.  I  '11  git  the  dokyments,  and  then 
Holcomb  an'  me  '11  settle  the  question. 
Thar  ain't  nothin'  yo'  kin  do,  nothin' 
but  keep  yore  tongue  from  talkin'  'bout 
what  yo'  hev  heerd." 

The  boy  sullenly  assented,  and  to 
gether  they  entered  the  cabin  and  sat 
down  with  the  family  to  their  frugal 
supper  of  corn  bread  and  fried  bacon. 
After  it  was  finished  and  the  children 
had  gone  to  bed,  the  youth  took  his 
hat  and  left  the  room,  telling  his  parents 
that  he  would  be  home  along  about 
morning.  "Thar's  a  dance  'crost  the 
ridge,"  he  explained. 

Red   looked  at  his  wife.     "Whar?" 


Over  ter  Holcomb's,"  said  his  son, 
closing    the    door    behind     him.       The 


«Yo'  Caint  Marry  Martha" 

sound  of  his  footsteps  died  away,  then 
husband  and  wife  drew  their  chairs  close 
to  the  hearth,  lest  the  childish  ears  on 
the  pallet  near  by  should  hear  too  much. 
The  glowing  ash-coated  coals  that  had 
warmed  the  evening  meal  touched  their 
faces  with  a  little  light,  which  was  height 
ened  spasmodically  by  the  glow  of  their 
pipes. 

"  'Liza,"  said  Red,  "  the  time  hes 
come  fer  me  ter  go  over  the  moun'ns 
on  'count  of  them  Holcombs  —  the  time 
we've  talked  'bout,  hopin'  et  mought 
never  be." 

"  I  reckon  yo  're  right,  Red,"  she  re 
plied..  "  The  time  es  nigh  'bout  ripe 
fer  thet  visit  ter  the  witch." 

"  I  hates  like  sin  ter  make  et,  'Liza. 
I  'd  ruther  face  a  dozen  derringers  then 
her.  She 's  not  of  us  people,  ner  of 
any  others  I  ever  seen.  Ner  I  don't 
want  no  trouble  with  the  Holcombs 


Red  Head 

neither,  but  et 's  comin', 'Liza,  sure  es 
fate." 

"Must  yo'  go,  Red?" 

"Yes,  I  caint  see  no  way  of  gittin'  out 
of  et.  c  When  thar  's  danger  of  a  weddin' 
'twixt  the  Holcombs  and  we 'uns,'  I  said 
ter  dad  as  he  lay  dyin',  f  I  '11  go  ter  the 
witch's  house,  es  yo'  makes  me  promise 
ter  do.'  Then  pap  reached  out  his 
hand.  '  Et  must  be  in  the  night,'  he 
said.  'Liza,  thar  ain't  no  way  es  I  kin 
see  of  'scapin'  thet  promise."  They  re 
mained  for  a  time  in  silence. 

"  Pow'ful  cur'ous  how  a  witch  kin  see 
'cross  the  days  thet 's  not  been  born, 
Red." 

"  But  she  kin,  jest  es  easy  es  I  kin 
stand  on  a  moun'n-top  and  see  'crost  the 
valleys  and  ridges  'twixt,  ter  the  next 
big  moun'n.  'Liza,  a  man  kin  see  in 
the  day  what's  made,  an  owl  in  the  night 
thet's  gloamin',  but  a  witch  kin  see 
14 


«Yo'  Caint  Marry  Martha" 

through  days  and  nights  thet  hain't  been 
horned,  and  she  kin  cotch  the  movin'  of 
things  what's  comin'."  His  voice  sank 
lower  still  as  he  finished.  The  awe  of 
the  unknown  was  upon  him. 

"  When  air  yo'  goin',  Red  ?  " 

«  Now." 

He  rose,  took  his  gun  from  the 
corner,  threw  his  powder-horn  over  his 
shoulder,  and  without  another  word 
passed  through  the  door  into*  the  night 
beyond. 


•^ 


> 


^'^ 


CHAPTER    III 

THE  WITCH    OF   THE    WATERFALL 

THE  art  of  the  woodsman  comes 
near    to   the   craft    of  the    seer 
who  peers   into  things  covered 
from    common  folks.      The    manner    in 
which  he  passes  in  darkness  from  point 
to  point,  where  neither  object,  way,  nor 
self  is    visible,   approaches    dangerously 
near  the  occult. 

Red  but  expressed  the  wonder  others 
have  felt  when  confronted  with  the  fact 
that  some  persons  seemingly  have  the 
power  of  projecting  their  vision  across 
the  light  and  shadows  of  approaching 
day  and  night.  Yet  he  was  not  aware 
of  his  own  rare  gift  of  treading  the  dark 

16 


rV-M 
' .    ,„,,,     J&   J, 


f/Wia^  *\f    „. 

\  ^  i/l  i v        '  ""y^>*<^.  '*-,-'s 

\     /      v  /  -T'  *^*^ 

'1«/X.  /i    *--«^ 


*y 


'//, 


The  Witch  of  the  Waterfall 

trails  that  skirted  the  bluff's  edge  and 
lined  the  very  torrent's  brink.  In  con 
fidence  he  trudged  along  the  mountain 
ways,  across  the  valley,  along  the  hill 
side,  through  the  forest,  where  twilight 
deepens  into  darkness,  over  the  crest  of 
the  ridge,  down  into  the  hollows  beyond. 
There  he  struck  the  edge  of  a  mountain 
creek.  Turning  to  follow  up  its  course, 
he  came  to  where,  in  the  stillness,  could  be 
caught  a  moaning  that  seemed  rather  to 
be  felt  than  heard.  He  went  on.  The 
moan  became  a  distant  groan,  then  a 
roar,  and  next,  —  a  mountain  waterfall, 
wrapped  in  .darkness,  thundered  by  his 
side.  Clambering  up  a  tortuous  trail  to 
the  rock  above,  he  stood  upon  a  flat 
stone  plateau.  Near  him,  in  the  very 
spray  of  the  waterfall,  yawned  the 
mouth  of  a  cavern. 

But    so  dense   was  the  darkness   that 
only  because  he  knew  it  to  be  there  did 

2  17 


ft'" 

V*  / 

/*>* 


Red  Head 


v 


this  cavern  exist  for  him.  The  fall  of 
water  was  close  below,  yet  the  sound 
seemed  now  to  come  as  an  echo  from 
the  distance,  the  shelving  rock  cutting 
off  its  directness.  Then,  from  the  dark 
ness  of  the  cavern's  mouth,  came  the 
sound  of  a  human  voice  —  a  voice  that 
now  low,  now  almost  shrill,  chanted  and 
wailed  an  old  English  ballad,  which 
seemed  sadly  out  of  place  in  those 
Eastern  Kentucky  wilds. 

"Like  to  the  falling  of  a  star, 
Or  as  the  flights  of  eagles  are, 
Or  like  the  fresh  spring's  gaudy  hue, 
Or  silver  drops  of  morning  dew, 
Or  like  a  wind  that  chafes  the  flood, 
Or  bubbles  which  on  water  stood  — 
Even  such  is  man,  whose  borrowed  light 
Is  straight  called  in,  and  paid  to-night." 


last 


Red    stood    listening    until    the 
word,    and    then    moved    forward 
tiously.     Suddenly  a  laugh  rang  out,  so 


cau 


The  Witch  of  the  Waterfall      ~ 


loud  and  shrill,  so  weird  and  startling, 
that  it  made  him  start  and  hesitate. 

"  Ha,  ha,  my  man  !  and  has  the  time 
come  for  the  visit  to  the  witch  ?  Ha, 
ha!" 

He  shuddered  at  the  uncanny  recep 
tion.  Again  the  voice  rang  out.  "  Come 
in,  man,  come  in  out  of  the  night  !  " 

Advancing,  he  passed  through  the  en 
trance  of  the  cavern,  turned  an  angle  in 

3  O 

the  stone  crevice,  and  moved  toward  the 
flickering  ray  of  light.  A  flaming  syca 
more  ball,  floating  in  a  pan  of  grease, 
lighted  the  rude  apartment.  By  its  side, 
with  upturned  face,  sat  a  form,  indistinct 
in  the  shifting  lights  and  shadows.  As 
he  drew  nearer,  the  form  rose  and  stood 
before  him,  revealing  a  vroman,  tall,  very 
tall.  Placing  both  hands  on  his  shoulders 
she  looked  him  full  in  the  face,  and  in  a 
low  dirge  chanted  the  remainder  of  the 
verse  that  had  just  sounded  in  his  ear  : 


I 


s 


Red  Head 

"  The  wind  blows  out,  the  bubble  dies, 
The  spring  entombed  in  autumn  lies  ; 
The  dew  dries  up,  the  star  is  shot, 
The  flight  is  past  —  and  man  forgot." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  she  laughed  again  ;  "  and 
so,  Red,  at  last  the  time  has  come  for 
the  visit  to  the  home  of  witch  Metric." 

"  I  promised  pap  thet  I  'd  come,  and 
sech  es  me  lives  up  ter  sech  a  promise," 
replied  the  mountaineer,  stolidly.  "  I  've 
come  fer  ter  git  thet  reason." 

"  You  Ve  come  to  learn  the  reason 
why  Little  Red  cannot  marry  Martha 
Holcomb?" 

But  he  allowed  himself  to  exhibit  no 
surprise.  "  'Xactly,"  he  answered. 

"You  call  me  a  witch,  you,  and  such 
as  you.  A  witch,  because  I  know  more 
of  that  which  has  passed  than  do  you, 
and  because  I  study  better  than  can 
you  the  direction  of  the  lines  which 
reach  into  the  future.  But  let  that  go 


The  Witch  of  the  Waterfall 

by  ;  you  cannot  comprehend.  Your 
father's  friend  was  I,  and  the  friend 
of  Holcomb's  father,  too." 

"  The  reason  es  what  I  wants, 
Merrie  !  " 

"'Fool,'  I  said  to  your  father,  'fool, 
to  think  that  the  time  may  not  come 
when  one  of  your  race  will  seek  a  mate 
from  out  the  Holcombs.'  And  I  told 
him  when  that  time  came  to  send  the 
child's  father  in  the  night,  if  he  feared 
to  have  the  neighbors  know  that  a  visit 
had  been  made  to  such  as  me.  To  him 
I  would  give  the  reason  that  your  father 
knew,  but  did  not  tell." 

"  Thet  's  what  I  Ve  come  fer,  Merrie." 

"  Go  back,  Red,  go  back  to  your 
home.  When  the  time  is  ripe,  I  will 
tell  both  the  Holcombs  and  yourself 
how  the  flower  that  once  was  white 
turned  red,  and  how  the  red  became 
crimson." 


Red  Head 

"  I  don't  keer  nothin'  fer  flowers,  red 
ner  white,  ner  Holcomb  don't,  neither." 

But  Merrie  turned  quickly  on  him. 
"  Did  your  father  not  tell  you  to  care 
for  the  bush  before  the  cabin  door,  care 
for  it  when  everything  else  was  gone?  " 

"The  bush  es  all  right,  Merrie.  But 
flowers !  Shucks !  What  air  they  ter 
me?  The  moun'ns  air  full  of 'em." 

"  And  how  about  Holcomb  ?  Has  n't 
he  a  rose-bush,  too  ?  " 

"  Yes.      He  's  got  a  row." 

"  And  his  are  red.  Go  back,"  she 
cried,  pointing  the  way.  "  Go  back. 
When  the  time  comes  both  you  and  he 
shall  learn  why  there  must  not  be  a  mar 
riage  between  Holcomb's  folks  and  your 
own." 

Red  attempted  to  expostulate,  but  the 
old  woman  relapsed  into  obstinate  silence, 
and  he  reluctantly  turned  to  go.  As  he 
passed  through  the  cavern's  opening,  his 


The  Witch   of  the  Waterfall 

form  was  blackly  silhouetted  against 
the  sky,  thus  showing  that  natural 
vision  rather  than  occult  might  have 
led  the  witch  to  greet  her  visitor  as  she 
did. 

Back  over  the  trail  the  mountaineer 
retraced  his  steps,  reaching  at  length  the 
hog-back  ridge  separating  the  two  fam 
ilies.  As  he  passed  the  summit,  through 
the  still  night  air  there  came  to  his  ear 
the  sound  of  a  violin  and  the  merry  song 
of  young  voices.  He  stopped,  the 
music  bringing  back  to  him  his  own 
childhood,  for  the  ballad  was  one  that 
his  parents  and  their  parents  before  them 
had  been  wont  to  sing. 

"  The    merry    queen   from    Dover  this   very   night 

came  over, 

Shall  she  be  attended  or  no,  or  no  ? 
Noble  queen,   be  not  offended,  for  you  shall  be 

attended. 

By  all  the  respect  that  we  owe,  we  owe,  we  owe, 
By  all  the  respect  that  we  owe." 
23 


Red  Head 

He  hesitated,  turned  to  resume  his 
march,  and  then  stopped  again  as  a 
second  familiar  refrain  rang  out  in  the 
night  air. 

"  Sister  Pheeby  and  me,  how  happy  were  we, 
The  night  we  sat  under  the  Juniper  tree  ; 
The  Juniper  tree, 
Heigh-O,  Heigh-O, 
The  Juniper  tree, 
Heigh-O." 

A  flood  of  memories  swept  over  the 
mountaineer.  He  saw  again  the  troop 
of  young  people  of  his  childhood  days 
circling  about  a  comrade,  singing  in 
unison  the  ballad  to  which  he  was  listen 
ing.  Then  came  the  chorus  — 

"  Put  this  hat  on  your  head,  keep  your  head  warm, 
And  take  a  sweet  kiss,  it  will  do  you  no  harm  ; 
And  another  won't  hurt  you,  I  know,  I  know, 
Another  won't  hurt  you,  I  know." 

Passing     strange     these     transplanted 
songs,  this   recognition   of  royalty,   this 
24 


>"•   -•£&>    '*!      ^kfS^L  &4 


w  &&^il£i  i  f  >"*VWk2aV~'    -^n  •>    /-*"        l    f       ^  w^ 


..^ 


\L<^- 

,-'-- V  sV\^ 


y^ 
Zr)> 


h 

:,..\*.-! 


TIT  ,tA    '  I 

W   >(;T> 

.'JV^ 


;-^, 


-/X-dk^ 


The  Witch  of  the  Waterfall 

reference  to  a  tree  foreign  to  our  land, 
—  the  English  juniper  tree,  —  this  tribute 
to  Old  England,  and  these  love  songs,  in 
the  home  of  the  illiterate  mountaineer. 
Strange  that  in  the  depths  of  these  Ken 
tucky  mountains  should  be  treasured 
songs  that  had  passed  from  view  even  in 
England. 

Rousing  himself  as  the  refrain  died 
away,  Red  moved  onward  as  they  struck 
up  another  familiar  ballad  which  began 
as  follows  : 

"  King  William  was  King  Arthur's  son, 
From  the  royal  diadem." 

At  last  he  opened  the  door  of  his 
cabin.  His  wife  raised  her  head  from 
the  pillow. 

"  What  war  thet  reason,  Red  ?  " 

"  I  did  n't  git  et.  The  witch  would  n't 
tell." 

"And  what '11  yo'  do  now?" 
25 


Red  Head 

"  Holcomb  '11  ax  me  fer  et  next  time 

we  meet,  sure." 

~          "  And  what  '11  yo*  tell  him  ?  " 
W          "I  caint  tell  him  nothin'.     We '11  jest 

fight  et  out." 


CHAPTER    IV 


FROM   near  and  far  the  mountain- 
dwellers  came  that  Sabbath  morn 
ing  to  the  "  preachin'  "  announced 
by  Deacon    Holcomb,  making  their  way 
from  their  homes  in   the  valleys,  on  the 
cliffs,  and  in  the  forest's  depths.     Among 
them  were  old  men,  too  old,  seemingly, 
to  stand  the  journey,  for  most  of  the  wor 
shippers    came    on    foot.       There    were 
many     children,    too,    led    by    careworn 
mothers      or     lank      fathers.        Friends 
grasped  hands  and  gave  hearty  greetings, 
while  others  brushed  elbows,  but  cast  no 
glance  of  recognition. 
27 


Red  Head 

The  new  preacher,  he  of  the  mild  re 
ligion,  was  a  tall,  slender,  white-faced 
young  man  of  great  depth  of  character, 
but  too  refined  in  word  and  manner 
favorably  to  impress  an  audience  such  as 
this.  In  a  low  voice  he  lined  the  psalm, 
in  the  simple  fashion  of  the  day,  and 
musically  led  the  tune.  It  was  a  strange 
text  that  he  took,  and  from  it  he  preached 
an  equally  curious  sermon.  A  pleading 
it  was  for  love  of  man  to  man.  He 
depicted  the  joy  of  one  who  lived  for 
kindness,  who  lived  to  love;  and  con 
trasted  therewith  the  sorrow  and  dis 
tress  of  those  dependent  upon  men 
swayed  by  passion  and  the  mad  im 
pulse  to  fight.  Strange,  above  all,  did 
it  seem  to  those  who  listened  within 
those  rude  log  walls.  Many  signifi 
cant  glances  were  exchanged ;  many  a 
head  was  shaken  in  token  of  inward 

protest. 

28 


Holcomb  Insists 

The  final  hymn,  new  to  all  who  listened, 
was  at  last  sung  by  the  minister  alone, 
whose  low  musical  voice  just  reached  the 
farthest  corner  of  the  room. 

Then  came  the  call  of  sinners  to  the 
mourners'  bench,  the  final  test  of  a 
preacher's  power  in  the  eyes  of  that 
simple  people.  Silence  fell,  but  none 
came  forward. 

A  flush  overspread  the  minister's  face. 
He  drew  his  hand  mechanically  across 
his  forehead  and,  raising  his  arm,  his 
outstretched  hand  slowly  swept  the 
room.  Then  he  spoke. 

"  Oh,  my  brethren !  would  that  I 
might  be  God's  agent  to  bring  you  who 
sin  to  feel  the  touch  of  love  you  need  to 
feel  for  one  another."  He  paused,  and 
then,  with  ringing  voice,  hurled  at  his 
hearers  a  charge  that  stands  on  record 
yet :  "  Lawless  are  ye,  one  and  all,  ye 
who  shoot  and  stab,  and  fight  as  do 


Red  Head 

brutes,  and  yet  dare  not  do  your  Master's 
bidding.  Know,  men  of  these  moun 
tains,  that  which  you  call  bravery  is  cow 
ardice —  sin-begotten  cowardice.  Know 
that  gods  such  as  you  worship  are 
devils ! " 

He  held  the  Bible  aloft.  "  You  who 
belong  not  to  the  church  dare  not  do 
your  duty  to  God  and  man.  You  who 
confess  by  reason  of  fear  of  the  devil 
and  not  of  love  to  man  and  kindred  lie 
to  your  God  upon  this  sacred  book." 
In  silence  he  stood  for  a  moment.  Then 
his  eyes  dropped,  the  flush  passed  from 
his  cheeks ;  he  raised  his  hands  and  in 
a  quiet  voice  pronounced  the  benedic 
tion.  Next,  as  was  the  custom,  he 
asked  if  there  were  any  announcements, 
for,  in  that  sparsely  settled  country,  items 
of  general  interest  could  be  more  widely 
voiced  by  public  announcement  after 
church  service  than  in  any  other  way. 


Holcomb  Insists 

After  an  interval,  a  young  man  and 
a  young  woman,  who  had  been  sitting,  as 
was  customary,  on  opposite  sides  of  the 
room,  came  forward  and  stood  before 
the  minister,  to  whom  the  young  man 
whispered  a  few  words.  Then  they 
turned,  folded  their  arms,  and  faced  the 
congregation. 

"  These  young  people  desire  to  an 
nounce  their  engagement,"  said  the  min 
ister.  There  was  no  movement,  and 
again  he  spoke  : 

"  According  to  the  custom  of  the 
people,  a  custom  handed  down  from 
father  to  son  by  those  who  brought  it 
from  abroad,  these  young  people  desire 
to  ask  if  any  in  this  room  have  reason  to 
deny  them  the  right  of  marriage.  They 
ask  for  the  protest  now,  if  protest  there 
be  ;  and  if  it  be  not  made  now,  the  young 
man  bids  me  proclaim  that  the  wedding 
will  take  place  next  Saturday  night." 
31 


Red  Head 

He  stopped,  and  there  was  a  momen 
tary  hush.  Then  Red  rose  awkwardly 
to  his  feet. 

"  Parson,"  he  said,  "  thet  weddin' 
caint  come  off." 

"  On  what  ground  do  you  object?" 

"Thar  es  a  reason.  No  Red  kin 
marry  inter  the  Holcombs." 

Like  a  flash  another  man  was  on  his 
feet,  tall  and  lank,  dark  and  lowering. 
It  was  Holcomb. 

"And  I  says  the  weddin' 's  got  ter 
take  place."  He  turned  on  the  other 
speaker.  "  Yo  Ve  insulted  the  name  of 
Holcomb  twict  already,  Red.  Now's 
the  time  fer  thet  reason,  now 's  the  time 
set,  fer  we  've  met  ag'in." 

Those  nearest  knew  too  well  that 
neither  of  the  men  would  flinch  nor 
retract.  They  knew,  too,  what  the  next 
move  meant. 

Holcomb    thrust    his    hand    into    his 

32 


Holcomb  Insists 

pocket,  a  like  movement  being  made 
by  his  antagonist,  who,  having  himself 
failed  in  getting  the  "  reason  "  both  men 

D  D 

equally  desired,  had  now  no  choice  but 
to  fight. 

"Hold,  men;  this  is  the  House  of 
God  !  "  cried  the  minister. 

"  A  man's  fam'ly  honor  comes  first, 
Parson,"  answered  Holcomb.  "  I  asks 
Red  fer  thet  reason,  and  I  wants  et 
now" 

The  tension  of  the  scene  was  sud 
denly  relieved  by  an  unexpected  inter 
ruption.  A  laugh,  loud  and  shrill,  rang 
harsh  upon  -their  ears.  In  the  door 
way  stood  the  witch  of  the  waterfall, 
she  who  had  never  before  been  known 
to  shadow  a  church's  portal.  All  eyes 
were  turned  toward  her.  Men  who, 
without  a  qualm,  had  seen  the  rival 
antagonists'  hands  move  toward  their 
weapons  shuddered  ;  women  shrank  to- 


. ,- 


Red  Head 

gether,  children  clung  to  their  parents. 
"  The  witch  !  witch  Merrie  !  "  was  the 
whisper. 

The  minister  alone  seemed  not  to  be 
awed.  Down  the  aisle  he  came,  closer, 
until  he  stood  between  the  men,  facing 
the  witch  in  the  doorway.  Those  of  the 
congregation  nearest  the  group  shrank 
back.  Red,  Holcomb,  and  the  preacher 
stood  together. 

"  Be  seated,  mother,"  said  the  preacher. 

Passing  the  vacated  benches,  to  whose 
farthest  ends,  as  she  passed,  slipped  the 
awe-struck  worshippers,  she  moved  slowly 
into  the  room. 

"What  do  you  want,  mother?  "  asked 
the  minister. 

"  I  would  speak  to  these  men." 

"  Be  careful,  woman.  Give  me  your 
message.  Trust  in  me,"  said  the 
preacher. 

"  No  !  "     Her  face  darkened.     "  No  ! 

34 


Holcomb  Insists 

I  shall  speak  my  words  only  to  them. 
Holcomb,  you  want  to  know  why  these 
two  young  people  cannot  marry  ? " 

"  I  Ve  asked  more  'n  once  fer  thet 
reason." 

"  Come  to-night  to  the  home  of  Red, 
and  you  shall  learn.  Bring  the  girl, 
for  she,  too,  must  know.  "And  you. 
come,  too,  Mr.  Man  of  God,  you  who 
preach  of  peace  and  love,  for  when  the 
reason  is  given,  you  '11  need  to  preach 
a  mighty  powerful  sermon,  if  you  keep 
peace  between  these  two  men  and  their 
kindred." 

"  The  meeting  cannot  be  held  to 
night."  It  was  the  preacher  again 
who  spoke.  The  witch  turned  upon 
him. 

"  And  why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  this  is  the  Sabbath." 

She  meditated  a  moment.  "Very 
well,  then,  let  it  be  next  Saturday  night, 

35 


Red  Head 

the  night  of  the  wedding!"  She  turned 
to  the  door,  stopping  a  moment  at  the 
threshold,  witch-like  in  figure  and  in 
voice.  "Ha,  ha!"  she  laughed.  "Let 
it  be  the  night  of  the  wedding!" 


CHAPTER    V 

THE   BEGINNING    OF   A   FEUD 

"  Family  honor  don't  luear  out  till  et ' s  fought  out  !  " 

THE  next  Saturday  night  the 
young  minister  and  the  family 
of  Deacon  Holcomb  were  the 
guests  of  the  man  called  Red,  in  his 
cabin  home.  They  came  just  after  sun 
down,  and  in  reserve  both  families 
awaited  the  appearance  of  the  witch 
of  the  waterfall,  but  the  evening  had 
far  advanced  before  the  lookout  an 
nounced  her  approach.  A  knock 
sounded  on  the  door,  and  then,  into 
the  light  of  the  room,  came  the  object 
of  their  concern. 

On  one  side  of  the   fireplace  sat  the 
family  of  Holcomb,    on    the  other  that     // 

37 


milt 


Red  Head 

of  their  host ;  while  between,  where,  but 
for  his  presence,  the  families  would  have 
met,  sat  the  minister. 

For  a  moment  the  woman  stood  with 
her  back  to  the  closed  door,  scanning 
the  faces  successively,  beginning  with 
Holcomb,  who  sat  next  the  chimney 
on  the  right,  and  ending  with  Red, 
who  stoically  opposed  him  on  the  left. 
Then  she  stepped  into  the  little  room, 
while  the  minister  moved  his  chair  that 
she  might  pass.  But,  without  heeding 
the  proffered  courtesy,  Merrie  stopped 
just  at  his  side,  and  again  scanned  the 
faces.  Her  demeanor  cast  a  deeper 
shadow  on  the  already  estranged  as 
semblage.  Without  speaking,  the  min 
ister  pointed  to  the  vacant  chair. 

"  No,"  was  the  reply ;  and  again  she 
scanned  by  turns  the  faces  of  Red  and 
of  Holcomb.  Then,  in  a  subdued  tone, 
not  at  all  in  accord  with  the  demonstra- 


The  Beginning  of  a  Feud 

tive  air  exhibited  when  she  appeared  in 
the  church,   she  continued : 

"  I  come  to-night  to  fulfil  a  promise 
made,  years  ago,  to  one  who  is  long 
since  dead." 

The  minister  did  not  resume  his 
chair.  Together  they  stood,  a  strange 
couple  in  a  strange  company. 

"  And  I  am  here  to  listen,"  he 
replied. 

"  Only  to   listen  ?  "   she  asked. 

"  Possibly  to  perform  a  marriage 
ceremony." 

The  woman  shook  her  head.      "  No, 
rather    to    offer    a    prayer.     Holcomb," 
she  turned  toward   the  man   addressed, 
"  you  wish  to   know  why  there  can    be 
no  wedding  between  these  children?  " 

"  I  've  asked  ag'in  and  ag'in  fer  thet 
reason,"  answered  Holcomb. 

"  We  both  asks  for  the  reason"  inter 
jected  Red. 

39 


>fw 

\l///>' 


"/ 


•'//f^l 


•  ,-'*t)*t 

^   '     " 


Red  Head 

"  The   reason   is  because  of  a  lasting 

D 

enmity  between  your  families,  because 
of  the  death,  persecution,  destruction, 
of  those  of  whose  cause  you  are  heirs. 
Kentucky  mountain  men,  concerned  as 
are  you,  need  but  know  the  facts  to 
raise  again  forgotten  feudal  emblems." 

"  What  mought  an  emblem  be, 
Merrie  ?  " 

"  One  stands  now  before  your  door." 

"  Tell  us  what  you  mean,  mother," 
interrupted  the  minister. 

"  I  mean  that  the  father  of  Red  di 
rected,  when  the  time  arrived,  that  he  be 
told  that  his  family  emblem  is  a  white 
rose,  and  that  of  the  Holcombs,  red." 

"You  speak  in  riddles.  What  mat 
ters  a  color  or  a  flower  at  a  time  like 
this  ? "  asked  the  minister,  impatiently. 

"  I    wants    ter    know    the    reason    fer 
swearin'  off  this  weddin',  witch,"  inter 
rupted  Holcomb,  angrily. 
4o 


"  7T\^Af '  LT  honor  don" '  t  wear  out  till 
•*•     et ' 's  fought  out !  ' '  —Page  49 


The  Beginning  of  a  Feud 

The  woman  waved  her  hand.  "  Lis 
ten.  Ton  are  descended  from  the  house 
of  Lancaster,  Holcomb,  and  you,  Red, 
from  that  of  York." 

The  men  glanced  quizzically  at  each 
other.  Never  before  had  they  heard 
these  names.  "  Thet  ain't  no  reason 
fer  us  ter  fight,  ner  yet  fer  them  chil 
dren  not  ter  marry,"  said  Holcomb. 

"  Whar  'd  them  two  houses  stand  ?  " 
asked  Red. 

But  the  minister  said  :  "  I  know  this 
story  of  the  olden  time ;  mediaeval  his 
tory  has  no  place  here." 

"  Ef  we  .b'longs  ter  them  houses,  we 
wants  ter  know  somethin'  'bout  'em, 
Parson.  Go  on,  witch,"  said  Red. 

"Three  hundred  years  ago,  two  men 
of  noble  family  met  in  England.  En 
mity  had  long  existed  between  them. 
Both  were  ready  for  open  warfare,"  said 
the  woman. 


Red  Head 

"  Men  meet  every  day,  ef  they  live 
thick  enough  anywheres,  I  reckon,  and 
most  men  wants  ter  fight  somebody. 
Et  don't  consarn  us,  this  meetin'  of  two 
men  three  hunderd  years  ago,"  inter 
jected  Holcomb. 

"We  mean  bis'ness,  witch,"  added  Red. 

"  They  stood  in  a  flower  garden.  One 
picked  a  red  rose,  the  other  a  white. 
f  These  shall  be  our  emblems,'  they  said." 

The  two  men  cast  looks  across  the 
fireplace.  A  ray  of  light  seemed  to 
break  over  the  face  of  Red. 

"  Dad  told  me  somethin'  'bout  them 
old  times,"  said  he,  "  but  I  'd  nigh  'bout 
fergotten." 

"  For  thirty  years  the  ancestors  of 
these  men  fought  under  the  banners  of 
the  roses.  Thousands  were  killed." 

Again  the  men  looked  at  each  other. 
Concern  had  evidently  taken  the  place 
of  indifference. 


The  Beginning  of  a  Feud 

"  That  was  three  centuries  ago,"  spoke 
the  minister.  He  caught  the  kindled 
interest  of  the  men.  "  Woman,"  he 
whispered,  "  can  you  not  see  that,  by 
reason  of  this  story  you  have  told, 
trouble  even  now  lies  before  these  fami 
lies  ?  Why  revive  such  long-buried 
records  ?  " 

Paying  no  attention  to  the  speaker, 
the  witch  continued.  "  Holcomb,  your 
ancestors  fought  for  the  Red  Rose. 
They  gave  their  lives  and  property  to 
the  House  of  Lancaster." 

"  Thet  old  war  caint  stop  this  wed- 
din',"  muttered  Holcomb. 

"  That  is  but  tradition,  why  speak  of 
it  now,"  said  the  preacher. 

"  Yes,  but  this  tradition  passed  from 
father  to  son,  till  the  grandfathers  of 
these  men  came  to  America ;  and  when 
their  sons  came  to  these  mountains,  they 
were  from  necessity  friendly.  They  set- 

43 


£e 


-r 


i 


Red  Head 

tied  near  each  other,  and  wisely  did  they 
keep  to  themselves  the  story  of  past 
differences." 

Ignoring  this  dialogue,  the  substance 
of  which  he  could  not  comprehend,  Red 
asked  :  "  Thet  row  of  white  roses  before 
this  door  stands  fer  we  'uns,  witch  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  father  planted  them 
there." 

"  Son,"  Red  spoke  earnestly,  in  a 
low  tone ;  "  fam'ly  honor  comes  first. 
There  caint  be  no  weddin'." 

"  Woman,"  said  the  minister,  "  why 
do  you  stir  these  burned-out  embers  ? 
Why  have  you  revived  this  story  of 
long-gone  wars  to  disturb  these  simple 
folks  ?  What  matters  it  to  a  Kentucky 
mountaineer,  if  the  Houses  of  Lancaster 
and  York,  in  England's  days,  did  fight 
and  murder  each  other,  and  involve  the 
innocent  as  well  as  themselves?  A 
trifle  such  as  this  may  turn  the  friend- 

44 


The  Beginning  of  a  Feud 

ship  of  these  people  to  hostility  ;  less 
has  been  the  cause  of-  bloodshed  here." 

"  'T  is  true  that  the  red  and  white 
roses  no  longer  thorn  each  other  in 
England,"  was  the  answer;  "but  in 
Kentucky  blood  still  runs  in  the  same 
crimson  flood.  The  story  of  those 
wars  of  old  needs  but  be  told  to  show 
these  men  that  their  family  honor  is  at 
stake." 

"And  how  are  you  concerned,  you 
who  seemingly  come  out  of  your  way 
to  do  this  great  wrong  to  these  simple 
people  ?  " 

"That  is  my  own  affair;  mine,  and 
the  ancestors  of  these  men."  She  turned 
to  the  door. 

"  Stop  !  "  said  Holcomb.  "  Then  the 
reason  Little  Red  and  Martha  caint 
marry  is  b'cause  them  men  in  England, 
'bout  three  hunderd  years  ago,  quarrelled 
'bout  them  roses  ?  " 

45 


"9"    '-  •   '<-- 

•*>,  •    .'>..XA- 


Red  Head 

"Yes,  and  if  you  be  men,  you  will 
take  upon  yourselves  their  quarrel."  She 
closed  the  door  and  disappeared. 

"  The  flowers  were  only  their  em 
blems,"  said  the  minister. 

"But  es  et  fact,"  asked  Red,  "thet 
my  fam'ly  and  Holcomb's  fam'ly  war  in 
a  feud  and  killed  each  other  ?  " 

"  This  story  may  be  but  an  invention 
so  far  as  your  people  are  concerned.  Be 
sides,  that  was  years  ago,  and  the  inci 
dents  live  only  in  the  minds  of  people 
like  this  woman  who,  knowing  your 
failings,  seeks  an  excuse  to  stir  up  a 
quarrel  between  you,"  urged  the  minis 
ter,  trying  to  avert  the  coming  storm. 

Holcomb  broke  in,  ignoring  the 
preacher.  He  spoke  decidedly.  "Thet's 
too  fur  back,  Red.  No  man  thet  lived 
three  hunderd  years  ago  hes  any  right 
ter  say  what's  ter  be  did  terday.  I'm 

pow'ful    keerful    of  what    consarns    the 
46 


The  Beginning  of  a  Feud 

Holcombs  of  old,  but  no  sech  reason  es 
thet  kin  stop  this  weddin'  'twixt  we  'uns 
and  yo  'uns.  I  sides  with  the  preacher." 

Red  glanced  at  the  preacher,  hesitated 
a  moment,  then  replied  in  a  very  low 
tone  : 

"  Holcomb,  I  don't  count  no  sech 
argyment  es  this,  when  et  comes  from 
a  man  what  preaches  out  of  a  book 
thet's  stood  sinse  Noah  floated  over  the 
airth.  The  preacher  axes  us  ter  drap 
this  war  story  of  three  hunderd  years 
ago,  and  then  he  preaches  thet  ef  we 
don't  take  what  he  b'lieves  in,  thet  hap 
pened  a  deal  further  back,  we  've  got  ter 
burn  ferever.  Thar 's  been  a  mighty 
sight  of  killin'  and  hard  feelin's  time 
gone  by  on  'count  of  them  Bible  stories, 
and  thar  's  a  sight  of  bad  blood  terday 
in  these  moun'ns  consarnin'  'em.  The 
preachers  don't  ax  us  ter  fergit  thet 
we  're  Baptists,  er  Presb'terians,  er 

47 


Red  Head 

Meth'dists,  ner  ter  stop  them  kind  of 
quarrels  b'cause  them  differences  started 
so  fur  back.  I  says  thet  et  ain't  fair  ter 
say  thet  we  'uns  hev  got  ter  fergit  what 
consarns  our  two  fam'lies,  and  then  side 
with  quarrels  what 's  a  sight  further  back, 
and  thet,  so  fer  es  I  knows,  we  hed  n't 
no  hand  in  gittin'  up." 

Holcomb  shook  his  head.  "  I  sides 
with  the  preacher,  Red,  and  thet  ends 
et.  The  question  ain't  the  Bible,  er  a 
preacher,  er  no  war,  nowhar  ner  notime. 
Et's  whether  this  weddin'  's  goin'  ter  be 
or  not.  Yo  've  said  no,  and  I  've  said 
yes." 

"  Leave  it  to  the  two  young  people 
concerned,"  pleaded  the  minister. 

"Et's  not  thar  consarn,  now,  et 's 
ourn.  Martha  Holcomb,  stand  up," 
said  her  father. 

"  Red,  Martha  Holcomb  's  es  good  es 

any    Red    thet    ever    breathed   in    these 

4s 


The  Beginning  of  a  Feud 

moun'ns,  er  any  Red  thet  ever  lived  any 
wheres.  She 's  ready  ter  marry  Little 
Red,  and  I  says  thet  ef  yo'  stop  this 
weddin'  yo  've  got  ter  fight." 

"  Fight  er  no  fight,  I  says  the  weddin'  's 
off,  and  I  says  more'n  thet,"  was  the  re 
ply.  "  Them  war  brave  men  who  killed 
each  other  fer  thirty  years  jest  b'cause  of 
a  couple  of  roses,  and  the  further  back 
they  lived,  the  more  we  'uns  and  yo  'uns 
air  bounden  ter  keer  fer  their  honor. 
Thar  ain't  many  fam'lies  even  in  Kain- 
tuck  thet  would  hev  done  all  thet  fightin' 
fer  a  pair  of  roses.  And  et  don't  make 
no  diff'rence  how  fer  back  et  war.  Ain't 
the  factions  'crost  the  moun'n  fightm' 
now  'bout  a  game  of  keards  thet  no  man 
livin'  saw  played,  and  ain't  the  blood 
spilled  terday  es  red  es  war  the  first 
drap  ?  Fam'ly  honor  in  Kaintuck,  Hoi- 
comb,  don't  wear  out  till  et 's  fought 


out. 

4 


49 


1 


Red  Head 

The  Holcombs  arose.  The  man 
spoke  for  all.  "  Red,"  he  said,  "  the 
honor  of  the  Holcombs  livin'  now  es 
worth  more'n  a  moun'n  of  roses.  Mar 
tha,  yo'  and  Little  Red  stood  up  in 
meetin'  and  axed  fer  reasons  why  the 
weddin'  could  n't  be,  and  we  've  all  lis 
tened  ter  what  the  witch  and  the  preacher 
said.  Witches  air  Scriptural,  and  so  air 
preachers.  Mind  yo',  Red,  I  don't 
blame  no  one  fer  takin'  ter  which  side 
er  t'other.  But  es  fer  me,  I  sticks 
ter  the  folks  thet  's  livin'.  Red,  me  'n 
yo  've  been  friends  sense  we  war  born, 
but  this  weddin'  's  got  ter  be,  er  we've 
got  ter  fight." 

"I've  hed  my  say,  and  yo've  hed 
yo  'rn,"  said  Red  doggedly.  "  I  hain't 
got  nothin'  ag'in  no  Holcomb,  livin'  ner 
dead,  much  less  'n  ag'in  Martha.  She  's 
a  mighty  sweet  gearl,  but  thet 's  no  rea 
son  we  shouldn't  fight.  Red  'g'inst  Hol- 
50 


The  Beginning  of  a  Feud 

comb  let  it  be.  My  gun  '11  come  down 
any  time  yo'  say,  and  what's  more,  I 
says  now,  fer  the  last  time,  thet  row  of 
bushes  in  front  of  yore  cabin's  got  ter 
come  up." 

"Men,"  cried  the  preacher,  "  this  is 
crime.  Shame  on  you  both !  Shame 
on  Kentucky !  Shame  on  ideals  such 
as  these  which,  trivial  in  the  extreme, 
lead  neighbors  to  crime  and  bloodshed! 
What  will  be  the  end  when,  in  time  to 
come,  bands  of  lawless  men,  defying  the 
courts,  resisting  the  government,  will 
claim  the  privilege  you  assume,  of  slay 
ing  without  -mercy  him  who  offends,  fol 
lowing  the  example  set  by  you.  Stop 
for  the  sake  of  your  families,  for  the 
sake  of  these  two  loving  young  people 
who,  but  for  this  trifling  story,  might 
this  night  have  been  united  in  marriage. 
For  the  sake  of  Kentucky  turn  your 
thoughts  away  from  the  methods  em- 
51 


Red  Head 

ployed  in  those  times  of  old.  Do  you 
even  know  which  side  was  right  and 
which  was  wrong  ?  " 

"  Et  don't  matter  in  a  faction  'bout 
the  right  er  wrong.  Et's  a  question  of 
Kaintuck  fam'ly,  Parson,  of  Holcomb 
'g'inst  Red.  Ner  et  don't  matter,  neither, 
'bout  the  names  of  them  old  English 
houses.  The  feud's  on  'twixt  we  'uns 
and  the  Reds." 

With  this  the  Holcombs  filed  out  of 
the  door,  the  last  to  go  being  the  girl 
who,  hoping  so  soon  to  be  a  bride,  had 
stood  so  demurely  in  the  church  the  pre 
vious  Sabbath.  Her  eyes  were  riveted 
on  the  tall  young  man  in  the  shadows, 
but  no  word  was  spoken.  The  minister 
stood  sad  and  silent,  frustrated  in  every 
attempt  to  bring  about  peace.  He  knew 
well  that  further  argument  would  be  of 
The  door  closed,  and  then, 
overcome  by  emotion,  the  good  man 


The  Beginning  of  a  Feud 

knelt  and  while  in  a  subdued  voice  he 
prayed,  each  one  kneeling  with  bowed 
head  listened  to  the  invocation  offered 
in  behalf  of  love  and  peace.  When  they 
rose,  the  father  glanced  about  the  room. 
The  son  was  gone. 

"  Whar  's  Little  Red  ?  "  he  asked. 

No  one  could  answer. 

"  Ef  he  's  j'ined  them  Holcombs,  I  '11 
shoot  him  on  sight." 


CHAPTER   VI 

"IT'S     POW'FUL     HARD,     THIS     FEUD 
'TWIXT   YO 'UNS   AND    WE'UNS" 

THE    father    turned   to   the   fire 
place,  took  from  over  the  rude 
mantel  a  gun,  threw  the  strap 
of  the  powder-horn  across  his  shoulder, 
placed  his  hat  on  his  head,  and  turned  to 
the  door.     There,  with  his  back  against 
the  rough  batten,  stood  the  minister,  his 
arms  folded  across  his  chest. 

"  This  is  not  a  time  to  hunt,"  he  said. 
"  Et  's  time  ter    hunt  the  game  I  'm 
after,  Parson." 

"  You  mean  to  murder." 
"  Thet  's  a  name    yo'    lowland    folks 
give  ter  a  killin'  when  the  feller  killed 

54 


"It's  Pow'ful  Hard" 

ain't  been  sartified  by  outsiders  as  desarv- 
in'  ter  be  killed." 

11  We  lowland  people  believe  in  law." 

"  And  we  moun'n  folk  believe  a  man 
consarned  in  a  case  knows  more  'bout 
who  needs  killin'  than  any  jury  of 
outsiders.  A  difference  hes  risen  'twixt 
the  Holcombs  and  we 'uns,  Parson,  and 
et  ain't  no  other  person's  right  ter  wedge 
in.  Git  out  of  the  way  and  let  me 
pass." 

The  minister  did  not  move.  "  No, 
Red,  I  will  not  go,  unless  you  promise 
to  give  up  your  errand.  I  must  prevent 
this  crime." , 

For  a  few  moments  the  men  stood 
face  to  face,  the  mountaineer  seemingly 
irresolute  as  to  whether  to  hurl  his  op 
ponent  aside,  as  he  could  easily  have 
done,  the  other  determined  to  maintain 
his  place  in  full  appreciation  of  the  fact 
that  the  rough  man  of  the  mountains' 
55 


Red  Head 

regard  for  a  minister  would  prevent  any 
form  of  personal  violence. 

"  We  kin  wait,  I  guess,  Parson,"  said 
Red,  at  length.  "  Let's  set  down." 

Just  then  the  door  was  pushed  open 
from  the  outside ;  the  minister  stepped 
back  and  the  son  entered. 

He  evidently  caught  the  sense  of  the 
scene  at  a  glance,  for,  turning  to  his 
father,  he  said  : 

"  Put  up  yore  gun,  pap." 

"Whar  hev  yo'  been,  Little  Red," 
demanded  the  father. 

"Thet's  my  bus'ness,  pap." 

"  Hev  you  been  with  them  Hoi- 
combs  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Little  Red,  ef  I  'd  got  sight  of  you 
with  them  Holcombs,  I  'd  hev  drawn  a 
bead,"  said  the  father  without  apparent 
emotion. 

"  Pap,  et  's  mighty  hard  on  a  feller 
56 


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fr- 
****icis?  -> 

>  -Clvr 


^-•rtr  -'<^, 


Bfegl 

^:. 


^•c-  ^y 

^       V        ••*       ii* 

^3  .0  ~~^&.JTf\i 


i 


*)> 


*  ^    T^ww  jar^Tr^^  -^?  --^ 


M 
•'/^ 


7/« 


"It's  Pow'ful  Hard" 

like  me,  this  feud  'twixt  Holcombs  and 
we'uns.  Pap,  I  love  Martha  Holcomb 
like  es  I  never  kin  no  other  gearl,  and 
she  loves  me.  Et 's  hard  on  both  of  us, 
pap." 

"  But  she  's  a  Holcomb  and  yo  're  a 
Red.  Ef  the  weddin'  hed  already  hap 
pened,  yo  'd  hev  the  right  ter  make  a 
ch'ice  of  sides;  now,  yo're  of  we'uns 
and  she  's  of  them." 

"  I  knows  et,  pap,  and  so  does  she. 
When  I  stood  and  watched  them  Hol 
combs  file  out  of  this  room,  she  goin' 
the  last,  and  lookin'  at  me  all  the  time, 
I  felt  like  sin.  Her  eyes  stuck  ter  me 
whilst  the  parson  war  prayin'  and  I 
couldn't  shet  'em  out.  Before  he  got 
through,  I  slipped  out  and  caught  up 
with  'em  in  the  path.  Et  don't  matter, 
pap,  all  what  we  two  said,  p'r'aps  et  war 
our  last  chance.  Old  man  Holcomb 
and  the  fam'ly  stopped  in  the  moonlight 

57 


Red  Head 

and  waited  a  bit.  Et  war  pow'ful  kind 
in  'em.  Thar  war  a  minit  er  two  of 
sayin'  good-by,  then  Martha  moved 
off,  and  I  come  back  home.  Thet's 
all,  .pap." 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  you 
intend  to  fight  the  family  of  your  sweet 
heart,  possibly  to  kill  her  father  or 
brother  ?  "  asked  the  minister. 

The  youth  turned  and  replied  respect 
fully.  "  Parson,  et  ain't  a  question  of 
'ntendin'  ter  do  nothin'.  Et 's  a  ques 
tion  of  honor  ter  the  two  fam'lies.  I  've 
either  got  ter  fight  er  run.  Ef  I  'd  run, 
Martha  Holcomb  would  be  ashamed  she 
ever  stood  up  with  me  in  thet  meetin'- 
house  before  all  them  people.  She  'd 
be  disgraced  first  of  all  ef  I  'd  show  the 
white  feather." 

The  father  reached  over  and  grasped 
his  son  by  the  hand.     "Thet's  bis'ness! 
Yo  're  a  Red  !  "  he  said  proudly. 
58 


"It's  Pow'ful  Hard" 

The  minister  endeavored  to  protest 
further,  but  vainly  ;  for,  ignoring  his 
words,  the  boy  continued :  "  Martha 
cried  a  bit,  fer  she  's  a  gearl,  and  gearls 
cry  at  nuthin'.  c  Little  Red,'  she  said, 
'  et  's  pow'ful  hard,  this  difference  'twixt 
yo  'uns  and  we  'uns,  but  we  ain't  mar 
ried,  and  we  knows  our  places.  Yo  're 
a  Red  and  I 'm  a  Holcomb.  Et '11  be 
an  awful  feud,'  she  said.  '  Both  fam'lies 
air  grit,'  I  answered.  Then  the  old 
man  called  ag'in,  and  she  moved  off. 
Thet 's  all,  parson." 

The  mother  rose  to  prepare  for  the 
night,  while  the  men  seated  themselves. 
The  children  were  first  snuggled  into 
their  rough  bed,  the  minister  was  taken 
to  the  one  bedroom,  the  son  climbed 
to  the  loft,  the  head  of  the  house  and 
his  wife  slept  beside  the  children  in 
another  improvised  bed  on  the  floor. 
In  a  very  short  time  the  heavy  breath- 

59 


Red  Head 

ing  showed  that  all  the  members  of 
the  family  were  sound  asleep,  while  to 
the  minister  on  the  only  soft  bed  of  the 
abode  came  wakefulness  and  unrest. 
He  could  not  understand.  Could  it 
be  that  such  trifling  incidents  as  these 
would  lead  to  the  sacrifice  of  human 
life,  that  two  families  needing  each  other's 
help  and  friendship  were  destined  from 
that  night  to  destroy  each  other  ?  Pon 
dering  these  questions,  he  dreamed  and 
waked  by  fits  and  starts,  the  passing 
from  dream  to  balanced  thought  being 
so  connected  as  to  make  of  it  all  a  seem 
ing  fantasia  in  which,  as  morning  dawned, 
the  preacher  questioned  as  to  whether  all 
were  not  a  dream. 

At  last  he  heard  the  father  go  out  of 
the  house,  and  soon  after  there  came  to 
his  ears  the  sound  of  a  rifle  shot  followed 
by  another  and  another.  The  mother 
seemed  unconcerned,  busying  herself 


"It's  Pow'ful  Hard" 

about  the  room,  the  rude  door  ajar  per 
mitting  her  movements  to  be  seen  by 
the  minister,  who  rose  and  dressed.  As 
he  prepared  to  leave  the  room  the  father 
returned  and  threw  a  string  of  squirrels 
on  the  floor.  The  mother  looked  up 
from  where,  kneeling  on  the  hearth,  she 
was  baking  a  pan  of  corn  pones.  Half 
speaking,  half  whispering,  she  asked, 
"  Did  yo'  see  any  of  them  Holcombs?  " 

"  I  got  the  old  man  the  first  shot," 
was  the  subdued  reply. 

The  minister,  who  had  not  heard  the 
half-smothered  conversation,  entered  the 
room.  "Parson,"  said  Red's  wife,  "they 
need  you  over  at  Holcomb's." 

"  Why  do  they  need  me  at  Mr. 
Holcomb's  ? " 

"  Ter  preach  a  fun'ral  sarmon.  The 
feud  'twixt  Holcombs  and  we  'uns  is 
on,  Parson." 


;;;Mrc.i     •'•  ""li 


Red  Head 

The  events  portrayed  in  the  preceding 
chapters  have  been  set  in  the  Eastern 
Kentucky  mountains,  the  time  being 
about  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  cen 
tury.  Between  that  day  and  1864,  the 
Holcombs  and  the  Red  Heads,  as  well 
as  all  who  married  into  either  family, 
maintained  their  honor  according  to  the 
code  peculiar  to  a  people  whose  heritage 
of  right  and  wrong  was  founded  on 
shadowy  traditions  from  out  feudal  Eng 
land,  intensified  by  inbred  local  ideas  of 
right  and  wrong,  as  well  as  the  way  to 
right  a  wrong.  True,  occasional  truces 
were  established  between  the  factions ; 
but  these  periods  of  respite  were  in 
reality  fuel  collectors  for  succeeding 
flames  which,  however,  were  restricted 
to  the  two  clans  of  kinsmen.  It  is 
not  our  purpose  to  give  in  detail  the 
many  harrowing  incidents  that  came  into 
the  lives  of  these  people.  The  gunshot 


his  clenched  fist,  be 
shook  it  viciously, —  Page  100 


"It's  Pow'ful  Hard" 

and  the  dirk  wound  may  please  some 
whose  lives  are  cast  afar  from  such 
events,  and  to  whom  life  like  this  must 
be  as  fiction.  But  such  tragedy  in  detail 
has  no  attraction  to  this  author. 

Pass,  then,  all  these  luridly  dramatic 
events,  the  intensity  of  which  may  be 
inferred  from  the  following  chapters  de 
voted  more  directly  to  the  one  who 
heired  the  cause  of  the  white.  Not  to 
England,  the  land  which  gave  birth  to 
these  feudal  customs,  nor  yet  to  the 
Eastern  Kentucky  mountains,  where 
centuries  stand  still  and  thought  mqves 
backward,  hut  to  Stringtown  on  the 
Pike,  must  we  turn  for  the  setting  and 
the  final  action  of  this  drama. 


CHAPTER   VII 

"A   DEVILISH    IMPUDENT   FELLOW" 

IN  the  spring  of  1864  Judge  Elford, 
of  Stringtown,  sat  in  the  front  room 
of  his  little  home,  his  companion 
being  Mr.  Nordman,  a  gentleman  of 
culture,  a  wealthy  farmer  whose  colonial 
home  was  near  the  pike  just  south  of 
the  village.  Old  friends  were  these 
men,  free  to  talk  and  joke  and  drink 
and  discuss  times  and  conditions,  as 
can  men  of  comprehensive  minds  and 
well-stored  intellects.  Between  them  on 
the  table  stood  a  bottle,  from  which 
occasionally,  as  the  afternoon  passed,  a 

glass  had  been  rilled  and  leisurely  sipped. 
64 


"A  Devilish  Impudent  Fellow" 

It  was  now  dusk,  and  as  the  shadows 
drew  together  the  judge  arose  and 
lighted  a  lamp,  which  he  next  turned 
low.  Scarce  could  'the  features  of  the 
men  be  seen.  Sitting  there  by  the 
window  the  judge  raised  his  hand  to 
draw  down  the  green  curtain,  gazing 
out  intently  as  he  did  so.  The  hand 
was  arrested  in  the  act,  and  while  peer 
ing  through  the  pane  the  jurist  beckoned 
his  guest  to  his  side.  Close  to  the  glass, 
indistinctly  outlined  in  the  shadows, 
stood  the  figure  of  a  boy.  His  face 
could  not  be  clearly  seen,  although 
enough  could  be  distinguished  to  excite 
the  interest  of  both  men,  who,  knowing 
every  boy  in  Stringtown,  perceived  that 
this  lad  was  a  stranger. 

"  A  devilish  impudent  fellow  !  "  ob 
served  Mr.  Nordman.  The  judge 
pulled  down  the  curtain  but  made  no 
reply. 

S  65 


;6*3tf&i$£.* 


Red  Head 

The  friends  had  just  reseated  them 
selves  when  the  door  opened  and,  with 
out  ceremony,  the  boy  stepped  into  the 
room.  Closing  the  door  he  stood  look 
ing  at  the  men,  but  did  not  say  a  word. 

"  A  devilish  impudent  boy,  I  say  !  " 
repeated  Mr.  Nordman  in  an  under 
tone.  Still  the  judge  made  no  reply. 
He  turned  up  the  light;  the  boy's 
features  became  distinct.  Almost  gro 
tesque  were  they  in  some  particulars ; 
yet  in  that  child-face,  the  jurist,  a  reader 
of  character,  saw  more  than  did  his  com 
panion.  A  moment  he  sat  in  silence, 
scrutinizing  the  intruder.  The  boy's 
movements,  that  to  Mr.  Nordman  sug 
gested  impudence,  seemed  to  him  due 
simply  to  lack  of  cultivation.  The 
mind  of  the  judge  caught  in  that 
homely  face  an  expression  which  be 
spoke  trouble ;  the  wandering  eye- 
glance,  the  drawn  mouth,  the  forlorn 


"A  Devilish  Impudent  Fellow" 

countenance,  disconsolate  in  it  all,  and 
yet  independent. 

"  What  can  we  do  for  you,  my  boy  ?  " 
the  judge  asked  kindly. 

The  lad  stooped  and  set  a  well-worn 
carpet-sack  on  the  floor.  "  I  'm  lookin' 
fer  old  man  Nordman,"  he  said,  and  his 
eyes  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  of 
the  men  before  him. 

"Devilish  impertinent,  I  say,  Judge — " 
began  Mr.  Nordman,  when  the  judge 
interrupted  : 

"  Mr.  Nordman  is  here,  my  boy,  and 
will  listen  to  your  message.  Sit  down.'* 
Rising,  he  placed  a  chair,  into  which 
the  lad  dropped  with  an  air  of  weari 
ness  which  suggested  almost  complete 
exhaustion. 

"You  are  tired." 

"  I  'm  used  ter  bein'  tired."  His  eyes 
fell  upon  the  bottle ;  the  glance  was 
understood  by  the  host. 


"  You  are  from  the  mountains  ?  " 

"  Yes,  from  Eastern  Kaintuck.  I  Ve 
walked  and  walked  and  walked." 

Without  a  word  the  judge  filled  a 
glass,  which  the  lad  drained  at  a  draught. 

"Thet's  the  first  licker  I've  tasted 
sense  Sissie  war  shot." 

"  You  're  a  fool,  Judge  !  "  Mr.  Nord- 
man  spoke  earnestly. 

"  Kin  I  see  Uncle  Nordman  ?  " 

"  Uncle  Nordman!  What  do  you 
mean,  Impudence?"  broke  in  Mr. 
Nordman. 

"  Mam  said  thet  Uncle  Nordman 
lived  in  Stringtown  on  the  Pike.  Him's 
who  I  'm  lookin'  fer." 

"  I  am  the  only  Nordman  in  String- 
town,  but  I  'm  no  uncle  to  such  as  you." 

"  Be  patient,  Nordman.  Let 's  hear 
the  boy's  story." 

The  lad  opened  the  carpet-sack,  care 
fully  taking  out  a  package  wrapped  in  a 

68 


"A  Devilish  Impudent  Fellow" 

white  towel.  This  he  unwrapped,  bring 
ing  to  view  a  rag  doll,  the  dress  of  which 
was  marked  by  several  brown-red 
blotches.  Pinned  to  the  doll  was  a 
withered  rose.  From  beneath  the  doll 
he  now  removed  a  smaller  package  in 
soiled  paper  which,  unrolled,  brought  to 
view  an  old-fashioned  daguerreotype. 
Stepping  to  the  table  he  handed  it  to  the 
judge.  u  Mam  said  ef  the  worst  come 
to  the  worst,  fer  me  ter  bring  thet  ter 
old  man  Nordman  of  Stringtown  and 
say  ter  him  thet  I  'm  her  boy.  Thet 's 
Mam's  picter." 

The  eyes  of  Mr.  Nordman  fell  upon 
the  features.  His  hand  shook  as  he 
took  the  daguerreotype  in  his  fingers  and 
gazed  intently  on  the  likeness.  "  It 's 
her,  Judge  —  Alice."  Then  he  turned 
upon  the  boy.  "  Go  back  to  the  moun 
tains  !  back  where  such  as  you  belong  !  " 

The  boy  rose.  Possibly  the  liquor 
69 


Red  Head 

nerved  him.  His  eye  flashed,  a  look 
of  defiance  overspread  his  countenance. 
"  Et  's  awful  hard  ter  be  hunted  like  a 
wolf,  but  when  a  wolf,  er  a  skunk,  er  a 
bear,  er  any  other  varment  es  driven  ter 
ets  hole  by  the  hounds,  ets  own  kind  and 
kin  gives  et  a  home.  I  'm  of  yo're 
people  and  I  'm  nigh  'bout  hunted  ter 
death." 

The  voice  of  the  man  trembled  as  he 
replied  :  "  Back  to  the  mountains,  I  say  ! 
where  your  mother  made  her  bed  among 
the  mountain  varments  !  " 

The  eye  of  the  boy  held  the  gaze  of 
the  speaker.  "  Mam  lived  in  heaps 
of  trouble  but  she  died  game.  I  '11  git 
even  with  yo'  yet  fer  them  words."  He 
turned  to  go. 

"  Nordman,"  spoke  the  judge,  "  there 
comes  a  time  when  passion  needs  be  for 
gotten,  when  forgiveness  becomes  one  's 
duty.  Alice,  your  youngest  sister,  of- 


"A  Devilish  Impudent  Fellow" 

fended  you,  but  she  was  honest  and 
pure.  Now  she  sleeps  the  last  sleep,  if 
this  boy  tells  the  truth.  Let  me  counsel 
you  hereafter  to  think  of  her  as  when  in 
childhood  days  she  and  you  rambled  to 
gether  in  the  edge  of  the  Kentucky 
mountains.  She  sought,  it  is  true,  those 
inner  fastnesses,  to  become  the  wife  of 
one  you  could  not  tolerate.  You  came 
to  Stringtown.  But  her  error,  if  error 
it  was,  is  now  buried  amid  the  hills  she 
loved.  The  boy  needs  help.  He  is 
your  sister's  child.  Give  him  a  home." 

"  The  breed,  from  the  side  of  the 
father,  is  bad,  Judge,"  said  Nordman. 

"  For  the  sake  of  Alice,  your  sister  of 
old,  be  charitable  to  her  child." 

"  He  has  bad  blood  in  him,  I  say, 
Elford,  but  you  put  it  strong." 

"  Some  day,  you,  too,  must  be  judged. 
Have  you  made  no  mistake  in  life, 
Nordman  ?  " 

71 


Red  Head 

Nordman  sat  in  silence.  The  last 
question  seemed  to  have  struck  home. 
Then  he  spoke  to  the  boy,  who  stood 
with  carpet-sack  in  hand. 

"  Have  you  had  any  supper  ?  " 

"  No,  ner  dinner,  neither.  I  'm  nigh 
'bout  starved." 

"  Come."  They  passed  together  out 
of  the  room.  The  judge  sat  alone. 
Then  he  filled  his  glass  and  sipped  in 
silence. 


CHAPTER    VIII 
RED  HEAD 

"  yt  MOUNTAIN  boy  !  a  moun- 
/— %  tain  boy  ! "  These  were  the 
whispered  welcomings  that  a  few 
days  later  met  the  ears  of  the  same  boy 
brought  to  the  Stringtown  school  by 
Mr.  Nordman.  A  strange  bit  of  hu 
manity  was  he,  both  in  appearance  and 
in  action.  His  hair  was  red,  fiery  red. 
His  face  partook  of  the  same  hue  and, 
strangely  enough,  the  freckles  over  his 
cheeks  were  not  brown  but  a  deep 
brown-red.  Awkward  in  demeanor  and 
in  movement,  reserved  to  the  point  of 
impudence,  but  independent  in  it  all. 
Alone  in  the  very  northernmost  tip  of 
Kentucky,  without  a  friend  or  com- 


--• 


Red  Head 

• 

panion,  separated  from  the  home  of  his 
childhood  by  the  Eagle  Hills  and  the 
great  tableland  beyond,  known  as  the 
Blue  Grass  section,  ready  to  study  or 
to  fight  was  this  child  from  the  moun 
tains.  And  that  he  might  expect  enough 
of  the  latter  is  evident  from  the  fact  that 
between  the  mountaineers  and  us  low 
land  people  existed  inborn  clannish  an 
tagonisms,  which  always  led  to  acts  of 
violence. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  the 
teacher,  as  that  morning  the  lad  stood 
before  him. 

"  Red  Head,"  was  the  reply  ;  and  as 
he  turned  to  his  desk  we  cast  our  eyes 
again  upon  our  books.  But  by  this 
name  he  came  to  be  called,  first  by  the 
children  ever  ready  to  fasten  a  nick 
name  upon  another,  then  by  all  who 
knew  him. 

About   this  date  came  to  our   school 

74 


Red  Head 

another  curious  child,  a  half  waif;  a 
shrinking  bit  of  a  girl,  strangely  dressed, 
neat,  clean,  starched,  and  prim.  I  recall 
her  timid  look,  as  the  .first  morning  she 
stood  before  Professor  Drake.  The  shy 
glance  she  shot  about  the  room,  the 
drooping  eye  that  fell  to  the  floor  as  she 
met  our  gaze,  linger  yet  in  recollection. 

"  Your  name,  child  ? "  asked  the 
teacher. 

"  Susie,"  was  the  reply. 

Bright  and  cheerful  was  she,  grateful 
for  little  kindnesses.  But  with  Red 
Head  it  was  different.  Alone  he  came 
to  school  each  morning,  alone  he  left 
when  study  hours  were  over.  During 
recess,  in  fair  weather,  he  sat  on  the 
fence  and  whittled,  taking  no  part  in  the 
games  of  the  boys ;  in  bad  weather  he 
sought  a  vacant  bench  inside  the  room. 
Within  a  week  no  boy  spoke  to  him,  and 
he  gave  no  word  to  others,  although  an 

75 


Red  Head 

occasional  cat  wail  could  be  heard  when 
his  back  was  turned. 

Every  "  new  boy  "  in  our  school  was 
expected  to  establish  his  position  by 
right  of  fist,  and  Red  Head  met  this 
ordeal  with  a  will  that  bespoke  his  cour 
age.  I  chanced  to  have  been  his  first 
antagonist,  but  it  was  a  drawn  battle. 
By  common  consent  we  became  there 
after  conspicuous  in  that  we  never  looked 
at  each  other  and  gave  no  taunt  when 
accident  brought  us  together.  We  lived 
in  a  temporary  truce  ;  peace  could  not 
come  between  us  until  the  fight  was 
finished. 

Red  Head's  favorite  place  during 
school  recess  and  noon  hours  was  a  con 
spicuous  locust  post  near  the  pike-line. 
His  employment  consisted  in  sitting  on 
this  fence  post  and  watching  the  road, 
whittling  a  stick  and  sharpening  his 

great    horn-handled    knife.       His    main 

76 


Red  Head 

object  seemed  to  be  to  scan  the  pike, 
for,  even  while  whittling,  his  bright  little 
eyes  were  ever  glancing  about  as  though 
he  were  expecting  some  one.  Watchful 
may  better  express  the  recollection  that 
comes  now  to  my  mind  as  I  reflect  over 
his  method  and  deportment.  Indiffer 
ent  to  our  games  or  pastimes  he  held 
himself  aloof;  and  yet,  once,  he  did 
take  part  in  a  contest  of  skill. 

We  were  shooting  at  a  mark,  the 
weapon  being  a  rifle  of  small  bore  (a 
squirrel  rifle),  the  "  mark "  a  sheet  of 
paper  on  a  plank  against  a  distant  tree. 
"  Strange  amusement  that  for  chil 
dren,"  .  some  may  say.  True,  but  I 
speak  of  Kentucky  in  the  Sixties.  A 
defiant  boy  singled  out  Red  Head  and 
challenged  him  to  join  us  —  dared  him 
to  shoot.  Climbing  down  from  the 
fence,  he  stepped  to  the  line  and,  be-  / 
fore  we  could  anticipate  his  object,  from  // 

77 


Red  Head 

an  inside  pocket  of  his  jacket  drew  a 
bright  revolver.  Raising  it,  without 
aiming,  he  fired.  Several  boys  sprang 
to  the  mark ;  there  was  the  bullet  hole 
in  the  plank  far  above  the  wildest  shot 
we  had  made.  A  cry  of  derision,  a 
series  of  cat  mews,  a  chorus  of  sarcastic 
jeers,  rang  upon  the  air. 

"  Better  git  a  rest,"  sneered  one. 

"  Fools  !  "  he  said,  "  thet  's  no  mark 
ter  shoot  at.  Ef  you  war  raised  in  the 
moun'ns  and  would  shoot  at  a  whole 
sheet  of  paper,  they  'd  take  yore  gun 
away  and  drive  yo'  off.  Thet's  no 
mark,  I  say  —  shoot  one  bullet  hole 
fer  the  centre,  and  then  put  five  in  a 
ring  jest  'round  et."  As  he  spoke,  his 
arm  was  again  raised,  and  as  fast  as  the 
trigger  could  be  pulled  came  five  shots. 
We  sprang  to  the  distant  mark,  and 
there,  in  a  close  circle,  equal  distances 
apart,  was  a  ring  of  little  holes.  I  recall 
78 


Red  Head 

the  exact  words  he  had  used  :  l<  Shoot 
one  bullet  hole  fer  the  centre,  and  then 
put  five  in  a  ring  jest  'round  et." 

But  alas !  our  challenge  resulted  in 
disaster  to  the  expert  marksman.  As 
the  hand  that  held  the  spent  revolver 
dropped,  the  mountain  boy  was  taken 
by  the  shoulder.  A  captive  was  he  in 
the  firm  grasp  of  our  teacher,  who, 
unperceived  by  us,  had  just  joined  the 
group  from  behind. 

Slinking  to  our  places  in  the  String- 
town  school,  we  sat  and  listened  while 
Professor  Drake  addressed  the  culprit, 
Red  Head,  from  the  mountains,  who 
stood  now  beside  the  table  on  which 
rested  the  revolver. 

"  Some  years  ago  a  boy  was  killed  by 
his  classmate  in  this  very  yard,  and  since 
then  no  pistol  has  been  allowed  in  the 
school.  It  is  against  the  rules  to  carry 
concealed  weapons." 

79 


''*A^.*Vr'.-  .  'L^l&tinibiiHKfcA  5  "  ';?g  ' 


Red  Head 

"  I  hain't  hurt  nobody,  teacher." 

"  But  surely  you  know  it  is  wrong  to 
carry  a  weapon  like  this  ?  " 

"  Et  ain't  wrong  fer  me  ter  carry  et." 

"  It  is  never  right  to  carry  a  pistol  in 
a  civilized  community." 

"  Teacher,  ef  yo'  knew  my  story,  yo' 
would  n't  say  et 's  wrong  fer  me  ter  carry 
a  gun.  Ef  yo  'd  been  through  what 
I  hev  and  war  lookin'  fer  what 's  bound 
ter  come,  yo  'd  carry  one,  too.  I  did  n't 
hurt  nuthin'  ner  nobody  when  I  shot 
thet  mark." 

"  Tell  me  why  it  is  not  wrong  for  you 
to  carry  a  pistol." 

"  Et 's  too  long  and  don't  consarn 
nobody  but  me." 

"  Tell  me,  child,  tell  me  why  you 
need  tnat:  weapon."  The  teacher  spoke 
very  kindly. 


CHAPTER    IX 

"I'M    THE    LAST    RED    HEAD" 

A /[ID  the  hush  of  the  school,  Red 
Head  began.  His  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  Professor  Drake,  and 
in  his  desire  to  regain  his  weapon,  influ 
enced  possibly  by  the  unwonted  kind 
ness,  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten  all 
others. 

"  I  'm  from  the  moun'ns,  I  am.  I 
don't  know  jest  how  we  'uns  come  ter 
live  thar,  and  et  don't  make  no  difF'r'nce. 
We  always  lived  in  the  moun'ns  of  East 
Kaintuck.  Our  house  wa'n't  no  great 
shakes,  et  hed  jest  two  rooms,  a  loft  and 
a  mud  chimney,  thet  's  all. 

"  Dad  said,  said  he,  one  day  when   I 

war  a  leetle  thing,  and  he  p'inted  back 
6  81 


Red  Head 

over  the  hog-back  hill  b'hind  the  cabin 
— '  Don't  none  of  you  chil'n  never 
cross  the  divide.  Keep  this  side  of 
Bald  Hill,  fer  thar  's  a  faction  'twixt 
Holcombs  and  we  'uns.'  I  can't  remem 
ber  when  he  fust  said  this,  et  war  when 
I  war  too  leetle*  ter  remember,  but  he 
said  et  of 'en.  An'  we  never  did  cross 
the  hog-back  hill.  Jim  ner  me  ner  none 
of  us,  fer  Dad  said  the  old  feud  war  off 
till  the  Holcombs  er  we  'uns  broke  et  by 
cross' n'  the  divide.  And  es  we  grew 
bigger,  brother  Jim  and  me,  Mam  kept 
us  up  in  the  story  of  the  feud. 

"  c  Ef  et  ever  happens  thet  the  feud  es 
on  ag'in,'  says  she,  '  thar  won't  be  no 
let  up  ter  et  es  long  es  thar 's  a  Hoi- 
comb  er  a  Red  livin'.'  She  said  es  how 
et  hed  been  one  of  the  bloodiest  feuds  of 
the  moun'ns,  and  oodlins  of  people  hed 
been  killed  on  both  sides  ;  and  she  used 

ter  show  us  the  row  of  Holcombs  on  one 

82 


"I'm  the  Last  Red  Headv      -^ 

side  of  the  graveyard,  and  the  row  of 
we  'uns  on  t'  other  side.  I  axed  her  what 
the  fight  war  'bout,  and  she  said,  said 
she:  *I  don't  jest  remember.  Et  b'gun 
befo'  I  come  inter  the  fam'ly,  'bout  a 
witch  story.  But  et  don't  make  no 
diff'r'nce  'bout  the  beginnin',  thet  don't 
consarn  us.' 

"  And  Dad,  he  did  n't  talk  much 
'bout  et  nuther,  but  es  soon  es  brother 
Jim  and  me  could  'hold  a  gun  he  taught 
us  all  'bout  shootin'.  f  Et  air  fer 
bus'ness  p'r'aps,'  he  said ;  '  ef  the  feud 
begins  ag'in  yo'  boys  '11  be  in  et.'  Thar 
ain't  no  more  ter  say,  teacher,  'bout  the 
feud,  and  I  don't  know  nothin'  more. 
Jim  and  me  1'arned  ter  shoot,  and  et 
did  n't  make  much  diff'r'nce  what  et  war 
we  shot  at,  we  hit  et.  And  Dad  grew 
monstrous  proud  of  us,  and  one  day  I 
heerd  him  say  ter  Mam  thet  he  did  n't 
keer  now  ef  the  feud  war  on  ag'in.  But 
83 


Red  Head 

he  kept  tellin'  me  'n  Jim  ter  keep  this 
side  of  Bald  Hill  and  we  did.  Jim  war 
'bout  two  years  older  'n  me,  teacher. 

"  But  one  day  we  started  a  young 
deer,  and  et  run  fer  the  divide.  We 
hed  n't  no  guns,  fer  we  war  out  fishin', 
but  es  et  war  a  leetle  critter,  we  started 
ter  try  and  run  et  down.  We  did  n't 
notice  whar  et  run,  and  befo'  I  knew  et, 
we  war  goin'  down  the  moun'n  t'  other 
side  of  Bald  Hill.  Jim  war  ahead  and 
mighty  close  on  ter  the  deer,  when  bang  ! 
went  a  gun  in  the  thicket,  and  Jim 
drapped." 

The  boy  stopped,  hung  his  head  and 
drew  his  coarse  sleeve  across  his  eyes. 
"  'Scuse  me,  teacher,"  he  said,  "  I  ain't 
used  t'  talkin'  and  et  makes  me  tired  t' 
speak  so  long." 

In  a  moment  he  resumed :  "  I  run  t' 
Jim  and  raised  his  head,  but  et  war  n't  no 
use,  he  did  n't  know  me.  He  war  dead. 
84 


*^,« 

v- 

v     x'^lVf 

wto^**'*!  *  ' 


\ 

/ 
/^  // 


"I'm  the  Last  Red  Head" 

A  minnie  ball  hed  gone  in  jest  above 
one  ear  and  out  jest  below  t'  other.  I 
could  n't  do  nuthin'  fer  Jim,  and  so  I 
drapped  him  and  started  ter  sneak  fer  the 
thicket.  I  wanted  ter  see  who  done  the 
shootin',  and  I  did  see,  too.  I  did  n't  go 
straight  fer  the  spot,  but  snook  ter  the 
right  and  got  inter  a  holler,  and  then  I 
crept  up  till  I  come  near  ter  the  place 
the  smoke  come  from,  but  thar  wa'n't 
no  one  in  sight.  Jest  then  I  looked 
back,  and  slippin'  'long  the  hillside,  I  see 
a  man  stooped  over  tryin'  ter  keep  the 
laurel  thicket  'twixt  Jim  and  hisself. 
He  got  behind  an'  old  stump  and  cocked 
his  gun  and  looked  up  ;  a  monstrous  tall 
man  war  Old  Holcomb.  He  could  see 
Jim  a-layin'  thar,  but  did  n't  seem  ter 
keer  fer  him,  and  I  saw  he  war  lookin' 
fer  me.  Lord,  teacher,  ef  I  'd  only  hed 
my  gun  then  ! 

"  But  es  I  did  n't,  I  jest  laid  low  and 
85 


Red  Head 

slipped  inter  the  briars  and  snook  'round 
the  hill  and  made  fer  home.  Mam  and 
Dad  and  little  Sis  war  sittin'  at  the  table 
eatin'  supper  when  I  stepped  inter  the 
door.  'Whar's  Jim?'  Mam  asked. 

"  '  Shot ! ' 

"  Dad  got  up  and  p'inted  over  towards 
Bald  Hill.  ( Hev  yo'  boys  crost  the 
divide  ? ' 

"'Yes.' 

" '  Es  he  dead  ? ' 

"  I  jest  put  a  finger  on  each  side  of 
my  head.  'Minnie  ball,'  war  all  I  said. 
(  Brother's  lyin'  jest  over  the  hog-back.' 

"  Dad  turned  ter  the  fireplace  and 
took  down  his  big  gun  —  the  big  b'ar 
gun.  'I'll  bring  Jim  home,'  he  said. 
'  Keep  in  the  cabin  till  I  come.  Don't 
yo  'uns  go  out.' 

"'The  feud's  on  ag'in,'  war  all  Mam 
said.  But  she  blew  the  coals  up  and 
commenced  ter  run  bullets  fer  the  big 


/^HINNET  BILL   SMITH.     "Sammy," 
be  said.  —  Page  107 


"I'm  the  Last  Red  Head" 

gun,  and  she  sot  me  ter  cleanin'  up  the 
rifle  and  revolvers. 

"  But  Dad  did  n't  come  home  till  long 
after  dark,  and  he  did  n't  come  home 
then  nuther.  Sis  and  I  went  ter  sleep, 
but  I  guess  Mam  did  n't,  fer  'bout  day 
light  I  war  waked  by  a  knock  on  the 
door,  and  es  I  opened  my  eyes  I  saw 
she  war  dressed.  She  took  down  the 
ir'n  bar  from  'crost  the  door  and  let  Dad 
in;  he  hed  Jim  in  his  arms.  cThar'll 
be  a  grave  dug  'crost  the  hill,  when  we 
bury  Jim.  I  hed  ter  watch  till  mornin'; 
et  war  a  long  shot,  but  I  cotched  him 
through  the  winder.' 

"  '  Who  'd  you  git  ? '   asked  Mam. 

"'Don't  know  whether  it's  the  old 
man  er  the  boy,  they  're  'bout  the  same 
size,  but  et 's  one  of  'em.' 

"Well,  teacher,  we  buried  Jim  in  our 
graveyard  row,  and  next  day  Sam  Hoi- 
comb  war  buried  in  their'n.  Then  we 
87 


Red  Head 

all  got  ready  ter  kill  er  be  killed.  Thar 
wa'n't  much  ter  do  but  ter  kiver  the 
winders  close,  keep  the  guns  clean,  and 
then  sneak  in  and  out  the  house.  Et 
war  watch  and  sneak,  and  hunt  and  sneak. 
We  killed  all  our  dogs  'ceptin'  one  leetle 
fice  thet  stayed  in  the  house  ter  bark,  fer 
they  hed  n't  sense  'nough  ter  keep  out 
of  sight;  and  ef  a  dog  war  seen  in  the 
bushes,  et  would  give  us  away.  One 
night  Mam  war  shot  by  a  ball  thet 

O  1 

come  through  the  winder.  Et  war  jest 
a  little  crack,  but  big  'nough  ter  let  light 
out  and  a  bullet  in.  She  wa'n't  killed 
dead,  but  she  could  n't  live  long  and 
she  knowed  et.  £  Red,'  she  said  ter 
take  good  care  of  little  Sissie. 


me 


She  air  too  young  ter  fight,  but  when 
she's  growed  up  she'll  marry  and  raise 
a  fam'ly  ter  help  carry  on  the  feud. 
And,  Red,'  she  said,  c  make  me  one 
promise.' 


"I'm  the  Last  Red  Head" 

"'Go  on,  Mam,  I'll  do  et,'  I  told 
her. 

" '  Don't  you  never  let  up  on  the 
feud,  Red.  Et  must  be  fought  ter  the 
end.' 

"  '  You  need  n't  make  me  promise  thet,' 
I  said,  c  I  '11  fight  et  out.' 

"  '  I  'd  die  happy  ef  yer  Dad  war  livin' 
ter  help  yo'.' 

"'Never  mind  'bout  Dad,'  I  said. 
'Thar  air  only  one  feller  left  over  the 
hill,  the  old  man.  Dad  shot  three  of 
'em  befo'  they  got  him,  and  I  shot  one, 
and  we  can't  expect  ter  hev  all  the 
luck.' ' 

Here  the  teacher  interrupted.  "  Why 
did  n't  you  go  for  a  doctor  ?  Perhaps 
your  mother's  wound  might  not  have 
been  fatal." 

"Doctor  nuthin'.  Thar  wa'n't  no  doc 
tor  'n  fifteen  mile  of  our  place  ;  b'sides, 

ef  I  hed  opened  the  door  thet  night,  I  'd 

89 


Red  Head 

hev  got  a  ball  too.  You  don't  know  nuth- 
in'  'bout  moun'ns  and  feuds,  teacher." 

"  You  say  your  father  had  been 
killed?" 

"  Fergot  ter  mention  et,  but  he  'd 
been  shot  down  'bout  a  month  before. 
Next  mornin'  I  shut  Sis  in  the  cabin 
and  sneaked  over  ter  Jones's  and  axed 
him  ter  come  and  bury  Mam  ;  and  I  tell 
yer,  teacher,  things  war  mighty  quiet 
'bout  our  place  fer  a  time  after  thet. 
Sis  hed  1'arned  ter  keep  still  and  stay  in 
the  house.  She  war  only  a  bit  of  a  gearl, 
but  she  hed  seen  some  bad  days,  teacher, 
and  hed  lots  of  sense  fer  sech  a  leetle 
thing.  Jim  war  shot,  Dad  war  shot, 
and  Mam  war  shot,  but  thar  wa'n't  but 
one  Holcomb  left.  Et  war  Sis  and  me 
next  ef  I  could  n't  git  him  first !  " 

For  the  second  time  the  narrator 
stopped  and  drew  the  sleeve  of  his  jacket 
across  his  eyes.  "  Et  makes  me  tired,  I 


-X 

";.;#% 


says,  ter  talk  so  long,  teacher,  but  I  '11 
git  my  wind  and  be  rested  in  a  minit." 
Then  he  continued, "  I  war  too  Jeetle  ter 
use  the  big  gun,  and  hed  ter  trust  ter  the 
pistol  er  the  light  rifle,  and  et  wa'n't 
fair  nohow,  fer  Tom  Holcomb  war  the 
tallest  man  I  ever  seen,  and  he  shot 
with  a  minnie  er  a  Springfield  musket. 
But  when  a  feller  's  in  a  feud,  et  don't 
make  no  diff'r'nce  'bout  size.  Et 's  kill, 
er  git  killed.  I  did  what  I  promised 
Mam  I  'd  do  es  best  I  could.  I  hed  n't 
much  chance,  fer  I  hed  ter  slip  in  and 
out  the  cabin  and  watch  fer  my  own  life 
and  keer  fer  Sis  and  try  ter  git  a  bead  on 
Holcomb.  But  'twa'n't  no  use,  things 
war  ag'in  me.  I  slipped  out  one 
mornin',  through  the  back  door  and 
over  ter  Jones's  house  ter  git  some 
meal,  fer  thar  wa'n't  a  bit  of  bread  in 
the  place,  and  when  I  come  back  the 
front  door  war  wide  open.  When  I  seen 
91 


-WAV.  ,/..  c-*'**  •    X^«' 


SM 


•i  ^».V'-.-~'A,    /•'•'// 

\  *•  V    «J"  "  •    '•  /- 

I  +'f .  \  *    f. 


Red  Head 

thet  door  open,  I  war  a-feared  et  meant 
trouble.  I  crept  inter  the  house  the 
back  way,  and  thar  in  the  open  door, 
huggin'  her  leetle  rag  doll,  sat  Sissie.  I 
could  see  the  head  of  the  doll  over  her 
shoulder.  The  sun  war  shinin'  bright 
in  her  face,  her  back  war  towards  me, 
her  little  head  leaned  ag'in  the  side  of 
the  door,  and  she  looked  es  sweet  es  a 
pictur.  '  Sis,'  I  said,  '  Sissie,  yo'  mus'n't 
sit  in  the  door;  Tom  Holcomb'll  git 
you,  Sis.'  But  she  didn't  say  nuthin'. 
'  Guess  she 's  'sleep,'  I  thought,  and 
slipped  ter  her  side  and  jumped  at  her 
and  cried, '  Boo  !  Boo  ! '  But  she  did  n't 
move." 

The  boy's  head  dropped  again,  his 
chest  heaved  convulsively.  Sob  after 
sob  broke  the  air.  Suddenly  controlling 
himself,  he  turned  defiantly  toward  us 
boys.  "I'll  thrash  the  feller  what  laughs 

et  me.      I  ain't  a  coward  ef  I  did  cry." 
92 


•J. 


."I'm  the  Last  Red  Head' 

"My  child,"  said  the  teacher,  as  he 
brushed  away  a  tear  from  his  own  eyes, 
for  the  affecting  climax  came  so  suddenly 
as  to  unnerve  him,  "  no  one  blames  you 
for  crying.  I  condemn  myself  for  lead 
ing  you  to  tell  in  public  this  pathetic 
story  of  your  life.  It  is  I  who  am  in 
fault,  but  I  did  not  know  what  was  com 
ing.  It  was  a  shame." 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  boy,  "  et  war 
a  shame  ter  shoot  sech  a  chunk  of 
lead  through  sech  a  leetle  bit  of  a  gearl. 
Thet  bullet  war  big  'nough  ter  kill  a 
b'ar.  But  I  '11  git  even  with  Holcomb 
yit." 

"  I  meant  to  say  that  it  was  too  bad 
of  me'  to  lead  you  to  tell  publicly  this 
sorrowful  story." 

"  Et  ain't  done  yit,  teacher.  Little 
Sissie  hed  op'ned  the  door  ter  set  in 
the  sunshine,  and  a  bullet  the  size  of 
yore  thumb  hed  plowed  through  her 


Red  Head 

chest  and  out  her  back.  I  picked  her 
up  and  laid  her  on  the  bed,  and  then 
took  an  old  satchel  and  put  a  few  things 
inter  et  (thar  wa'n't  much),  and  wrapped 
up  the  leetle  bloody  doll,  and  Mam's 
pictur  an'  a  white  rose  thet  I  picked  from 
the  bush  before  the  door,  and  put  'em  on 
top.  I  hain't  got  nuthin'  else  now  ter 
'mind  me  of  Sissie  but  thet  doll,  ner  of 
the  old  home  but  thet  rose.  I  barred 
the  front  door  and  slipped  out  the  back 
way,  out  and  'round  the  spur  ter  Jones's 
house.  I  took  my  pistol  —  thet 's  the 
very  one  "  (he  pointed  to  the  weapon  on 
the  table)  —  "and  left  the  guns  and 
everything  else. 

" '  Et  ain't  fair,'  I  said  ter  Jones ; 
'  Holcomb  's  too  big  fer  me.' 

"'  Coin'  ter  let  him  run  yo'  off? '  said 
Jones. 

" '  No,  goin'  ter  go  away  ter  grow 
bigger.  Tell  Tom  Holcomb  ef  he 

94 


"I'm  the  Last  Red  Head" 

wants  me,  I  '11  be  in  Stringtown  on  the 
Pike.' 

"  f  And  ef  he  don't  foller  yo'  ? ' 

"  c  When  I  'm  big  'nough  ter  handle 
a  Springfield  gun  I  '11  be  back  ag'in. 
Tell  him  the  feud 's  on  till  one  er 
t'  other  of  us  es  shot.' 

" c  And  Sissie,  air  you  goin'  ter  leave 
Sissie  ? '  said  Jones. 

"'She  don't  need  me  no  longer. 
Yo  '11  find  her  on  the  bed  in  the  cabin. 
Bury  her  in  the  row,  'longside  o'  Mam. 
I  sha'n't  go  ter  the  buryin',  fer  I  'm  the 
last  of  the  Red  Heads  and  I  can't  run 
no  risk  of  Old  Holcomb's  gun.' 

"'Thet's  all,  teacher.'  " 

Drawing  the  lad  to  his  side,  Professor 
Drake  gently  smoothed  the  unkempt 
mat  of  red  hair,  parting  it  with  his 
fingers  in  the  place  a  part  should  be, 
but  seldom  before  had  been. 

"  Teacher,"     said     the     boy,     "  it 's 

95 


Red  Head 

pow'ful  kind  in  you  ter  do  thet.  You 
don't  know  what  et  is  ter  be  all  alone 
in  a  town  like  this  whar  every  one  hates 
you  like  sin.  I  've  got  ter  fight  ev'ry 
boy  in  Stringtown  after  I  whip  Sammy 
Drew;  but  I  ain't  keerin'  fer  thet. 
Yo'  don't  know,  teacher,  how  et  feels 
ter  be  hunted  like  er  fox  all  yer  life." 

"You  expect  Mr.  Holcomb  to  follow 
you  to  Stringtown  ?  " 

"  Et 's  him  er  me  fer  et,  teacher. 
He 's  the  last  of  the  Holcombs,  and 
I  'm  the  last  Red  Head." 


CHAPTER    X 

RED    HEAD    DEFENDS    SUSIE 

ONE  morning  before  school 
opened  and  before  Professor 
Drake's  arrival,  both  Red 
Head  and  I  were  in  place  on  the 
boys'  side  of  the  room,  when  our  at 
tention  was  drawn  to  a  whispering  group 
of  girls.  Just  then  the  door  opened, 
and  Susie  passed  down  the  open  space, 
until  she  .reached  the  girls,  who,  on 
opposing  seats,  leaning  across,  sat  with 
heads  together.  Back  they  shrank,  gaz 
ing  intently  into  her  face  as  she  drew 
near,  making  no  return  to  her  pleasant 
greeting  beyond  a  cold  stare,  beneath 
which  the  smile  on  Susie's  .face  dis 
appeared.  She  was  only  a  child,  but 

7  97 


// 

V 

' 


Red  Head 

]  no  words  were  necessary  to  tell  the 
story  carried  by  those  unfeeling  eyes 
and  shrinking  forms.  With  downcast 
face  she  passed  along,  her  satchel  of 
books  hanging  upon  her  arm.  From 
her  cheeks  the  blood  had  fled ;  I  saw 
those  roses  fade  as  I  have  sometimes 
seen  a  beautiful  evening-tinted  cloud 
deaden  and  turn  to  leaden  hue.  Toward 
her  own  desk  passed  the  child,  while 
on  either  side,  peering  at  her  as  can 
girls  who  have  the  devil  in  their  hearts, 
sat  those  Stringtown  girls.  But  Susie 
looked  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the 
left,  although  it  could  be  seen  that  she 
felt  the  touch  of  their  hateful  eyes. 
Her  desk-mate  sat  in  her  place ;  but 
as  Susie  approached  she  too  drew  away 
as  though  the  touch  of  her  garment 
might  be  unclean.  The  child  stopped 
short,  the  satchel  slipped  from  her 
nerveless  arm  and  fell  upon  the  floor. 


Red  Head  Defends  Susie        ~" 

Pleadingly  she  raised  her  clasped  hands, 
then  dropped  into  her  seat  and  im 
ploringly  turned  her  pallid  face  upward. 
Her  words  were  low  and  tremulous,  but 
I  caught  them. 

"  Tell    me,  Jennie !    tell    me  what    it 

*    i » 
is  ! 

For  reply  the  girl  again  drew  back. 
Then  came  whispers  from  about ;  the 
busy  tongues  of  Stringtown  girls  were 
loosed.  Slowly  the  child  arose,  and 
turned  toward  the  door;  she  did  not 
stop  to  pick  up  the  fallen  satchel ;  a 
rosy  apple  touched  by  her  foot  rolled 
across  the  floor  to  the  rostrum  ;  but  she 
did  not.  heed  it.  The  whispers  grew 
louder,  and  as  she  reached  the  middle 
of  the  open  space  before  the  door,  one 
tongue,  bolder  and  more  vicious  than 
the  others,  sang  in  sarcastic  monotone, 
'Only  Susie,  Nigger  Susie,  Nigger 
Susie !  " 

99 


Red  Head 

Had  the  girl  been  instantly  petrified 
she  could  not  have  stopped  more  sud 
denly.  Pallor  overspread  her  face.  Her 
beseeching  eyes  wandered  from  one  to 
another,  but  no  response  other  than  a 
malicious  stare  met  her  gaze,  and  she 
turned  again  toward  the  door. 

Now  came  an  unexpected  interrup 
tion.  Red  Head  sprang  across  the  floor 
and  threw  his  left  arm  about  the  shrink 
ing  girl,  who  dropped  her  head  convul 
sively  upon  his  shoulder.  Raising  his 
clenched  fist,  he  shook  it  viciously  at  the 
others,  and  shouted :  "  I  kin  thrash  the 
brother  of  the  girl  who  said  them  words 
ter  this  un  !  "  Giving  them  no  time  to 
reply,  he  continued  :  "  I  kin  thrash  any 
boy  in  school  of  my  size  !  I  'm  a  bad 
boy  from  the  Kaintuck  Moun'ns,  but  I 
ain't  bad  'nough  ter  be  a  brother  ter  sech 
a  set  es  yo  'uns." 

I   sprang  from  my  place,  holding  out 


Red  Head  Defends  Susie 

my  hand.  "  Let  me  be  with  you  and 
Susie,"  I  said,  "  we  three  together.  Let 
us  be  friends." 

"  Git  back,"  he  cried,  "  er  I  '11  hit  you  ! 
I  hate  you  all.  I  hate  everybody  on 
'arth  and  everybody  hates  me.  I  hate 
Susie,  too,  'cause  she  's  been  born  down 
here  'mong  you  folks,  but  I  takes  up 
fer  her  'cause  you  all  hev  thrown  her 
down.  You  wants  ter  shake  hands,  Sam 
Drew,  but  we  two  don't  shake  no  hands 
till  after  we've  fought  et  out.  I  '11  meet 
you  in  Indian  Holler  first  day  after 
school  shets  up.  Then,  after  I  whips 
you,  we'll  talk  'bout  shakin'  hands. 
Come,  Susie,  we  hev  no  use  fer  this 
place  nohow.  You  air  Susie  Nobody 
and  I  'm  nobody  the  Red  Head."  To 
gether  they  left  the  room,  never  to 
return. 

These  final  words,  the  taunt  and  re 
buke,  rankled  in  my  bosom,  and  from 


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Red  Head 

that  day  I  longed  for  the  end  of  the 
school  term,  anxious  to  fight  it  out  with 
Red  Head  of  the  mountains.  At  last 
the  session  closed,  and  the  next  morn 
ing  found  me  seeking  the  appointed 
place. 

Into  the  meadow,  over  the  next  ridge, 
and  down  its  side  into  Indian  Hollow,  I 
passed.  As  I  turned  the  top  of  the  last 
ridge  I  caught  sight  of  a  distant  form, 
that  of  a  boy  about  my  own  size,  who 
directed  his  steps  down  the  opposing 
slope  toward  the  point  I  was  approach 
ing.  It  was  Red  Head,  my  expected 
antagonist,  who,  true  to  his  agreement, 
met  me  in  the  ravine,  where  tradition 
said,  rested  the  dead  Indians.  No  word 
did  either  of  us  say  as  we  slowly  neared 
each  other ;  there  was  no  necessity  for 
words,  we  knew  our  errand.  I  raised 
my  fists  and  prepared  for  the  tussle,  but 
instead  of  a  like  movement,  he  folded 


OUS1E,  with  the  eyes  of 
Susie  of  old.  —  Page  i  22 


Red  Head  Defends  Susie 

his  arms  across  his  chest  and  said  :  "  Hit 
me  in  the  face  ;   hit  me  hard  !  " 

He  made  no  offensive  motion,  neither 
did  he  offer  to  protect  himself.  "  Hit 
me,  I  say !  Take  thet  club,"  (he 
pointed  to  a  heavy  stick).  "  Beat  me 
on  the  head  !  " 

I  gazed  at  him  in  amazement, 
near  were  we  that  as  he  spoke  I 
his  warm  breath  in  my  face. 

"  I  'm  a  fool  and  yo  're  afeard  !  "  he 
said.  "  Ef  you  war  in  my  place  and  me 
in  yo  'rn,  I  'd  beat  you  down  before  a 
minit  passed.  I  tell  you  I  wants  ter  be 
hit  in  the  face,  I  wants  ter  be  knocked 
down,  and  you're  afeard  ter  do  et." 

"  I  did  n't  come  here  to  hit  you  stand 
ing  like  that,  with  folded  arms;  I  came 
to  fight." 

"  You  can't  fight  me.  Not  'cause  I 
don't  want  ter  fight,  fer  I  do,  but  'cause 
I  Ve  been  a  fool." 

103 


Red  Head 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  I  promised  not  ter  fight  you,  but  I 
did  n't  promise  not  ter  show  you  thet 
I  'm  not  afeard  of  bein'  hurt.  I  '11  not 
strike  back,  but  I  dare  you  ter  beat  my 
head  with  the  club.  I  wants  ter  git  paid 
fer  bein'  a  fool.  I  '11  not  flinch.  Hit 
me,  I  say." 

"  I  shall  not  do  it.  Who  made  you 
promise  not  to  fight  me  ? 

His  eyes  snapped.  "  Nobody  made 
me,  I  don't  'low  no  one  ter  make  me  do 
nuthin'.  I  jjsst  promised  not  ter  fight 
you,  and  I  '11  do  what  I  promised." 

"  Whom  did  you  promise  ?  " 

"  Susie." 

He  stood  before  me  with  folded  arms, 
this  wild  mountain-boy,  my  enemy. 
"  Susie  begged  me  not  ter  fight  you,  and 
I  promised.  She  said  thet  you  hed  been 
kind  ter  her  and  helped  her  in  school. 

I  'm  a  fool,  but  not  a  coward." 

104 

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top- 


Red  Head  Defends  Susie 

"  Why  did  she  beg  this  of  you  ?  " 
"  I  don't  know,  ner  I  don't  keer.  She 
says  thet  1  did  n't  do  you  fair  when  you 
offered  ter  stand  by  me  thet  day  in 
school.  She  's  a  girl,  and  she  cried  when 
I  told  her  thet  I  'tended  ter  thrash  you 
ter-day,  and  I  promised  not  ter  do  et, 
but  I  hates  you  like  pizen,  and  yo'  hates 
me,  and  I  know  et.  We  '11  come  ter- 
gether  some  day  yit,  yo  'n  me." 

"  You  need  n't  talk  so  sure  about 
whipping  me,"  I  replied.  "  You  would 
have  had  to  work  before  you  thrashed 
me,  but  if  you  can't  fight  me  now  I  '11 
not  hit  you  now."  He  made  a  grimace 
and  turned  to  depart.  Disdain  was  in 
his  eye,  hatred  in  his  heart,  but  the  wild 
beast  had  found  his  master  in  a  little 
girl. 


CHAPTER   XI 

I    PRESCRIBE    FOR    MR.  NORDMAN 

TIME  passed,  and  Red  Head 
had  grown  to  near  manhood's 
height,  while  I  was  prepared 
to  enter  college. 

"  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Cumback,  the 
grocer,  that  last  morning  as  I  made  my 
farewell  tour  through  the  village,  thrust 
ing  into  my  pocket  a  neatly  tied  package, 
"  don't  forget  Stringtown  !"  and  then  he 
squeezed  my  fingers  until  the  joints 
ached. 

Chinney  Bill  Smith,  of  long-bearded 
fame,  sat  on  a  barrel  before  Mr.  Cum- 
back's  grocery.  The  crown  of  his  head 
was  now  bald,  but  the  entire  chest  of  the 


106 


I  Prescribe  For  Mr.  Nordman 

artful  Kentucky  minstrel  was  masked  by 
heavy  whiskers. 

"  Sammy,"  he  said,  and  his  rough 
palm  covered  my  hand  and  crushed  the 
skin  on  my  wrist,  "  Sammy,  yo'  hev 
heerd  me  tell  some  whoppers  'bout  Cap'n 
Sam  Hill,  but  when  the  feller  a  man's 
talkin'  ter  knows  thet  a  story  es  a  lie,  et 
ain't  no  lie.  Nevah  tell  a  lie,  Sammy  ; 
cut  yore  tongue  out  fust." 

Venerable  Judge  Elford  held  me  long 
by  the  hand,  looking  me  full  in  the  face. 
"  Child,  it  has  been  many  years  since 
my  boy  Charles  went  from  our  village  to 
a  college  .in  Ohio ;  he  was  about  your 
age  when  he  left  me.  And  next  Willie, 
'our  Willie,'  the  boy  of  Silas  and  Sarah, 
left  for  the  North."  His  voice  trembled, 
and  for  a  moment  he  said  no  more.  I 
knew  the  story  of  both  "  our  Willie  " 
and  his  boy.  There  was  no  need  for 
him  to  tell  it. 

107 


Then  the  judge  resumed.  "  Promise 
me,  Sammy,  that  if  ever  you  get  into 
trouble,  you  will  come  to  me." 

"  That  I  will  assuredly  do." 

"  And  that  in  case  you  need  help,  you 
will  follow  my  advice.  There  are  dissi 
pations  in  the  North  new  to  boys  like 
you.  Maintain  your  honor,  Sammy ; 
fight,  if  needs  be.  Maintain  your  honor, 
if  to  do  so  means  to  fight  the  whole 
North.  Remember,  Sammy,  the  record 
of  my  boy  Charley  gives  me  a  right  to 
this  heartfelt  interest  in  the  son  of  an 
old  neighbor,  who  has  no  father." 

"  I  promise  to  call  on  you,  Judge," 
said  I,  "  and  to  follow  your  advice." 

Nearing  the  home  of  Mr.  Nordman, 
the  old  gentleman  on  the  pike  south  of 
Stringtown,  I  caught  sight  of  a  lad  on 
the  fence  beside  the  front  gate.  Red 
was  his  head.  I  drew  near;  he  gazed 
intently  up  the  pike  toward  the  south, 
108 


I  Prescribe  For  Mr.  Nordman 

and  gave  me  no  recognition.  I  opened 
the  gate  and  closed  it.  I  could  have 
touched  him  had  I  cared  to  do  so,  but 
neither  of  us  gave  the  other  the  greeting 
of  a  glance.  When  I  passed  back  again 
he  sat  as  before,  indifferent  to  my  pres 
ence  ;  nor  did  I  recognize  him. 

Next  day  I  climbed  to  my  place  on 
the  box  of  the  four-horse  stage  that 
rolled  up  to  the  tavern,  changed  horses 
and  rumbled  away.  Never  before  had 
I  appreciated  how  much  I  loved  String- 
town,  nor  how  well  I  knew  each  object 
about  the  village.  We  passed  a  straw- 
stack,  and  memory  pictured  a  group  of 
boys  .sliding  down  its  side.  Next,  over 
in  the  pasture,  a  great  hollow  sycamore 
tree  leaned  over  the  creek  we  now 
crossed  on  a  little  wooden  bridge,  and 
memory  again  brought  to  mind  a  party 
of  boys  huddled  in  its  great  cavity, 

shrinking  from  a  summer   storm.     The 
109 


Red  Head 

tree  held  its  white  arms  aloft,  its 
blackened  cavity  was  exactly  as  when 
that  day  we  crept  into  its  hollow.  As 
each  loved  scene  passed  in  retrospect, 
my  heart  grew  heavier.  I  even  thought 
kindly  of  Red  Head  and,  with  no  bitter 
ness  in  the  remembrance,  sought  to  lo 
cate  the  spot  where,  in  distant  Bloody 
Hollow,  we  met  to  fight  that  morning, 
when  with  uplifted  hand  he  dared  me 
to  beat  him  in  the  face  with  the  heavy 
stick. 

The  lump  in  my  throat  grew  painfully 
large.  I  endeavored  to  crush  it  down 
and  vainly  tried  to  hold  back  the  tears. 
A  gush  of  grief  swept  suddenly  over  me, 
my  face  was  covered  by  my  hands,  and 
the  rough  stage  driver,  who  for  some 
reason  had  sat  in  silence,  and  whom  I 
sought  to  deceive,  —  for  I  was  ashamed 
to  have  him  notice  my  weakness,  —  threw 
his  arm  about  me,  drew  me  close  to  his 


I  Prescribe  For  Mr.  Nordman 

side,  and  gently  whistled,  as  with  the 
other  hand  he  expertly  drove  the  four- 
in-hand  up  and  down  the  hills  and 
around  the  curves  of  the  narrow  String- 
town  pike.  Ati  last  I  looked  up  and 
straightened  in  my  seat. 

"  Thank  you,"  I  said,  "  I  feel  better 
now." 

"  I  've  a  boy  at  home  'bout  yer  age, 
he  answered.  "  Ef  he  war  startin'  fer 
the  North,  ter  be  gone  'mong  them 
kind  of  people  till  spring,  I  guess  there  'd 
be  two  sick  ones  on  top  the  Stringtown 
stage." 

But  time  flies  fast  when  one  looks 
backward  through  the  departed  years. 
When  I  finally  returned  from  college, 
to  walk  again  the  streets  of  my  native 
village,  I  felt  like  a  visitor.  Strange 
was  the  sensation  that  came  over  me  as 
I  passed  along  the  familiar  way,  for 
Stringtown  no  longer  possessed  me  as  a 


Red  Head 

part  of  herself.  The  houses  were  seem 
ingly  much  smaller  than  when  I  had 
formerly  known  them,  the  pavements 
narrower,  the  flat  stones  of  the  walks 
were  now  uneven  and  rough.  A  group 
of  little  boys  looked  up  at  me  ;  without 
a  word  of  recognition  they  resumed  their 
marble-playing.  On  that  very  spot  but 
a  few  years  before,  playing  marbles,  I, 
too,  knelt  in  the  dirt,  a  boy  of  String- 
town,  known  to  every  other  boy  and 
knowing  every  boy.  "Mr.  Drew"  and 
"  Samuel "  fell  on  my  ears  and  grated 
harshly,  but  there  were  a  few  exceptions. 
The  man  who  first  used  the  familiar  term 
"  Sammy  "  was  Judge  Elford.  "  Sammy," 
he  said,  "  you  did  not  get  into  trouble  ; 
you  did  not  send  for  me,  as  I  feared  you 
might,  and  asked  you  to  do  in  case  you 
needed  me;  you  have  my  admiration. 
A  splendid  record  you  have  made,  but 
the  end  is  not  in  sight.  You  may  yet 


I  Prescribe  For  Mr.  Nordman 

require  my  advice,  my  help.  Remember, 
Sammy,  you  promised  to  follow  it  if  the 
needful  time  ever  arrives." 

I  passed  up  the  old  pike  to  the  home 
of  Mr.  Nordman,  the  Kentucky  gentle 
man  who  introduced  Red  Head  to  our 
Stringtown  school.  Something  that  I 
cannot  to-day  define  attracted  me  toward 
this  home  of  my  antagonist  of  old.  A 
moment  did  I  stop  in  the  open  gateway, 
just  a  moment,  while  through  my  mind 
ran  the  reflection  that  when  last  I  passed 
that  spot  Red  Head  crowned  the  gate 
post.  I  turned  toward  the  porch  where 
sat  the  familiar  figure  of  Mr.  Nordman. 

Cordial  was  the  reception  extended  by 
this  friend  of  my  childhood,  who  pos 
sessed  the  peculiar  charm  such  men  have 
for  youthful  as  well  as  more  matured 
minds.  Many  were  the  questions  he 
asked,  most  charmingly  did  he  interject 
his  quaint  words  of  pure  Kentucky  ac- 

8  113 


fc: 


Red  Head 

cent.  But  in  it  all  Red  Head  domi 
nated  my  mind,  although  he  did  not 
now  present  himself  in  person.  At  last 
I  turned  to  depart  but  was  held  by  a 
question  from  my  host.  "  Sammy,"  he 
said,  "you  have  studied  in  the  line  of 
chemistry  and  medicine  and  must  know 
much  of  things  concerning  ailments  such 
as  trouble  men  of  my  age." 

"  I  am  not  a  physician,  Mr.  Nord- 
man,  but  yet  I  understand  somewhat 
the  uses  and  doses  of  remedial  agents." 

"  I  called  foah  doctahs  one  aftah  the 
othah,  and  each  gave  me  quinine.  I  '11 
not  take  quinine,  Sammy.  It's  pizen 
and  gives  me  the  bone  misery.  Can't 
you  name  some  simple,  an  herb  or  bark 
to  fit  my  trouble  ?  " 

Reflecting  a  moment  and  questioning 
further  I  finally  replied,  "  Mr.  Nordman, 
as  I  have  said,  I  am  a  chemist,  not  a 

physician,  and  hesitate  even  to  suggest 
114 


I  Prescribe  For  Mr.  Nordman 

a  cure.  Yet  an  emergency  remedy  is 
sometimes  necessary  in  the  household. 
It  is  evident  you  often  need  both  a 
gentle  tonic  and  a  mild,  quieting  agent. 
I  would  suggest  that  you  put  golden 
seal  root  and  wild  cherry  bark  in  whis 
key,  and  as  a  tonic,  take  a  tablespoonful 
of  the  liquid  each  morning." 

"  A  fine  prescription,  especially  the 
whiskey.  But  the  pains,  Sammy,  the 
cramps  ?  " 

"  For  these  take  a  dose  of  laudanum. 
Repeat  the  laudanum,  if  necessary." 

"  Is  there  no  danger?  I  'm  afraid  of 
strong  drugs,  Sammy." 

"  You  need  have  no  fear,  but  do  not 
take  an  overdose  of  the  laudanum." 

He  held  out  his  hand.  "  If  you  were 
older  I  should  ask  you  to  take  some 
thing  to  drink.  Good-bye,  my  boy." 


CHAPTER    XII 

RED    HEAD    TRIUMPHS 

INTO  the  pasture  the  next  evening 
I  wandered  to  watch  the  sun  go 
down.  First,  the  contact  part  of 
a  cloud  bank  was  tinted  with  a  silver 
sheen,  then  as  he  sank  behind  the  black 
body,  a  ribbon  of  silver  formed  upon 
the  upper  margin,  a  narrow  border 
that  from  either  side  where  cloud 
met  horizon  followed  in  veriest  detail 
its  uplifted  undulations.  At  last  the 
edge  was  tinted  in  silver  and  finally 
the  heavens  became  one  red  glow. 

From  where  I  stood  in  the  valley  I 
saw  uprise  upon  the  summit  of  the  hill 
a  form  that,  magnified  and  distorted  by 
the  atmospheric  touch  of  mingled  night 


Red  Head  Triumphs 

and  day,  seemed  more  than  twice  human 
height.  Then  curious  movements  pos 
sessed  the  sky  picture  :  the  erect  form 
changed  to  a  bent  figure ;  the  hands 
and  arms  moved  strangely  out  and  in, 
and  at  one  time  with  outstretched  arm 
it  leaned  forward,  pointing  into  the 
valley  beyond,  where  lay  the  old  grave 
yard.  Next  an  object  heretofore  unseen 
sped  from  near  it  and  flitted  along  the 
path.  But  as  it  did  so  the  upright 
figure  uttered  a  cry,  shrill,  wild,  like 
that  of  a  savage.  As  the  sound  struck 
the  air,  the  small  creature  scampered 
back  affrighted  and  clasped  his  little 
arms  tightly  about  the  long  legs  of  the 
erect  being,  whatever  it  might  have 
been.  Then,  while  yet  I  gazed,  the 
form  suddenly  fell  to  the  ground  and 
disappeared  from  sight;  at  the  instant 
the  pantomime  was  broken  by  a  repeti 
tion  of  the  cry,  followed  by  a  laugh  that 
117 


Red  Head 

seemed  unlike  any  other  laugh   my  ear 
had  ever  heard.     Then  came  silence. 

I  started  forward,  following  the  path 
in  the  meadow  toward  the  summit  of 
the  hill ;  but  when  I  neared  the  spot 
nothing  could  be  seen.  Too  dark  was 
it  now  to  distinguish  objects.  I  lingered 
a  moment  and  then  strode  on,  when  my 
foot  struck  a  soft  obstacle.  I  stooped 
and  reached  down.  Bare  legs  and  feet 
touched  my  fingers,  which  then  passed 
over  the  face  of  a  child.  Raising  the 
little  form  in  my  arms,  I  moved  toward 
a  light  that  shone  through  a  window  in 
the  distance.  Scarce  knocking  at  the 
door,  I  hastily  entered.  It  was  the 
home  of  Susie. 

"  Brung  de  gem'n  a  cheer,  Dinah." 
"  Don't   concern    yourself  about   me, 
Uncle  Cupe ;  see  what  can  be  done  for 
this  child  ; "  and   I   laid  the  boy  on  the 
bed. 


t»  '  i.  n  < WiW'ti ••' 
¥-'"  ''<'\  AT:/^  W^/*o 

p^r >vys?'  t>^ 

'' ''-•.^•'-     •'/  '.-      .  .-  '    /    r     .is  t .'ss  •       •      f    '  '' 


J\/IAY  i T  have  t 

t*-*-    --Page   130 


Red  Head  Triumphs 

"  De  chile  hab  been  in  pain,  suah," 
said  Cupe,  who  quickly  opened  the 
waist,  directing  me  to  rub  the  limbs 
and  body  with  the  palms  of  my  hand. 
He  next  ordered  Dinah  to  bring  him 
some  hot  water,  and  from  a  flat  bottle 
prepared  a  toddy  that  in  teaspoonful 
doses  was  slowly  poured  into  the  mouth 
of  the  child,  who  automatically  swallowed 
it.  Under  the  combined  influence  of 
the  stimulant,  the  hot  tea,  and  the 
friction,  the  limbs  ceased  contracting, 
the  twitching  muscles  were  quieted,  and 
to  my  relief,  the  eyes  opened. 

At  this  point  came  a  knock  on  the 
door,  and  without  waiting  to  be  ushered 
in,  the  intruder  lifted  the  latch  and 
entered.  It  was  Red  Head,  but  no 
longer  a  boy  as  when  I  last  saw  him  on 
the  gate-post.  Tall  and  lank,  he  stood 
before  us  lithe  and  supple,  red-faced  and 

impudent.      I    sat    by   the    bed    rubbing 
119 


\  iff/' • 


Red  Head 

the  forehead  of  the  child,  who  as  his 
eyes  fell  upon  the  face  of  the  new 
comer  shrank  as  if  struck  by  a  sudden 
blow.  With  a  cry  of  alarm  he  threw 
his  arms  about  my  neck  and  sobbed 
convulsively.  Then  it  flashed  upon  me 
that  the  tall  form  I  had  seen  on  the  hill 
was  that  of  Red  Head,  and  connecting 
therewith  the  present  movements  of  the 
frightened  boy,  I  reasoned  that  he  had 
been  the  cause  of  the  child's  suffering. 
Indignation  possessed  me.  Unclasping 
the  arms  of  the  little  one,  I  thrust  him 
upon  the  bed  and  faced  the  other,  who 
stood  full  a  head  taller  than  myself. 
"  And  you  it  is,"  I  said,  "  who  delight 
in  frightening  helpless  children  !  You 
who  stoop  your  head  when  you  enter  a 
door ! " 

He  sneered,  but  did  not  answer. 

"  Out  of  this  house  !  "  I  pointed  to 
the  door,  but  he  made  no  movement. 


Red  Head  Triumphs 

I  sprang  toward  him  and  tried  to  strike 
his  face ;  he  drew  his  head  back,  stepped 
aside,  and  I  passed  him  by.  Turning, 
I  sprang  again,  viciously  striking  with 
my  fist  ;  he  artfully  evaded  the  blow, 
and  reaching  out  his  lank  arm,  grasped 
one  of  my  wrists  and  then  the  other. 
The  strong  lad  held  my  two  wrists  in 
one  hand,  and  with  his  ugly  countenance 
close  to  my  eyes,  laughed  in  my  face ; 
then  giving  me  a  sudden  twirl,  sent  me 
spinning  to  the  farther  side  of  the  room. 
I  was  frenzied  now,  and  knew  not  what 
I  did.  The  leering  face  and  sarcastic 
laugh  were  more  exasperating  than  a 
blow  of  the  fist  would  have  been.  It 
was  evident  that  he  could  have  beaten 
me  to  the  floor  had  he  cared  to  do  so, 
and  the  fact  that  I  had  been  spared  was 
humiliating. 

Realizing  that  I   could  not  cope  with 
him  fist  to  fist,  I   sought  a  weapon   and 


Red  Head 

found  it  in  Cupe's  double-barrelled  shot 
gun  that  stood  in  the  corner  to  which  he 
had  hurled  me.  I  grasped  it,  and,  with 
my  back  to  the  corner,  raised  and  pointed 
it  toward  him,  when  a  form  burst  from 
out  the  door  at  the  back  of  the  room. 
It  was  Susie.  I  shuddered  as  I  dropped 
the  butt  of  the  gun  to  the  floor,  for  she 
stood  in  range  between  Red  Head  and 
myself,  and  I  realized  how  near  I  had 
come  to  firing  as  she  stepped  in  the 
line  of  sight.  Susie,  with  the  eyes  of 
Susie  of  old,  but  not  exactly  the  same 
face,  and  surely  not  the  form  of  the  wild 
girl  I  knew  four  years  ago.  A  more 
matured  expression  of  countenance,  a 
womanly  figure,  had  replaced  the  face 
and  form  of  the  girl,  yet  the  years  had 
brushed  away  no  charm  or  grace.  She 
stood  motionless  before  me  in  the  lamp 
light.  A  wild  rose  had  been  placed  in 
the  bosom  of  her  gown,  another  graced 

122 


Red  Head  Triumphs 

her  hair  ;  these,  when  last  I  knew  her, 
she  would  not  have  worn  as  now  she 
wore  them. 

"The  gun  is  loaded,"  she  said.  "Is 
it  murder  they  teach  boys  in  Ohio  ? " 
Ashamed,  I  replaced  the  weapon  in  the 
corner,  while  she  turned  to  Cupe. 
"  Uncle  Cupe,  you  must  answer  for  this. 
I  '11  not  have  such  things  done  in  my 
house ! " 

"  'Deed,  Missus,  and  I  could  n't  help 
de  boys  com'n',  needah  could  I  help 
'em  fight'n'." 


1  To  readers  unfamiliar  with  "  Stringtown  on  the 
Pike"  the  statement  may  be  made  that  "  Susie,"  who 
came  into  our  midst  as  a  waif,  dependent  on  the  care 
of  the  faithful  negro  slave,  Cupe,  had  come  into  the 
possession  of  a  considerable  property,  and  had  also  re 
ceived  an  education  far  in  advance  of  what  was  then 
customary.  To  the  kindly  influence  of  Judge  Elford, 
and  to  her  own  quick  perception,  must  be  ascribed  the 
refined  manners  acquired  by  this  otherwise  neglected 
child.  In  this  study  of  "Red  Head,"  it  is  deemed 
unnecessary  to  more  than  refer  to  these  incidents. 


Red  Head 

She  turned  to  Red  Head. 

"  And  you  ?  " 

"  Did  n't  fight.  Thet  feller  tried  ter 
fight,  but  I  wouldn't.  He'd  hev  shot 
me,  too,  ef  yo'  hed  n't  come.  Ask 
Cupe." 

Then  I  broke  in.  "  Red  Head  tells 
the  truth.  I  tried  to  fight  and  could 
not.  He  is  stronger  than  I,  and  he 
knows  it.  I  'm  a  fool  for  giving  him  a 
chance  to  show  me  that  I  am  weak  and 
that  he  is  strong  in  brute  strength.  I 
have  acted  the  dunce  in  trying  to  strike 
him  with  my  fist.  It  must  be  brain 
against  muscle  hereafter,  and  when  brain 
meets  muscle,  brain  always  wins." 

"  Thar  '11  allers  be  two  sides  ter  the 
path  we  meet  on,"  said  Red  Head, 
addressing  me.  "  You  keep  ter  the 
right,  and  I  '11  keep  ter  the  right. 
Thar's  room  ter  look  about  without 

lookin'  at  each  other,  and  thar  's  room 
124 


Red  Head  Triumphs 

ter  whistle,  ef  we  caint  keep  our  mouths 
shet  when  we  meets  on  the  same  path." 
Then  he  defiantly  left  the  room. 

Before  departing,  I  lingered  a  second, 
a  second  longer  than  I  might  have  done. 
Just  a  second  longer  than  I  should  have 
done  did  I  hold  the  girl's  hand. 

"  May  I  come  again  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Why  not  ?"  she  answered.  "This 
is  Kentucky."  She  took  the  wild  sweet- 
briar  from  her  hair  and  handed  it  to  me. 
"  Let  us  be  friends." 

"  Thank  you,  Susie,"  I  said.  cc  May 
I  not  also  have  the  other?"  and  I 
pointed  to  the  white  rose  on  her 
bosom. 

"  That  is  for  Red  Head,"  she  replied. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

SAMMY'S    PROMISE 

WOULD  that  mountain  boy 
never  cease  to  cross  my  path  ? 
From  our  first  meeting  in  the 
old  Stringtown  school,  our  courses  seem 
ingly  had  been  entangled.  Thus  I  med 
itated  as  I  walked  home.  Then  my 
thought  turned  to  Susie,  and  for  the 
first  time  came  the  idea  of  Red  Head 
as  a  rival.  That  incident  of  the  rose 
lingered  in  my  mind,  nor  did  it  lighten 
as  the  days  passed.  At  last,  I  turned 
for  a  final  trip  over  the  path  that  led 
to  the  cabin  of  negro  Cupe,  the  home 
ot  Susie.  In  the  thicket  tangle  near  her 

home,  walking  toward  the  village,  I   ab- 

126 


you  handle  a  Springfield 
rifle  yt?"  —  Page  131 


Sammy's  Promise 

ruptly  met  her.  She  raised  her  eyes, 
startled,  and  fixed  them  on  my  own. 
Self-possession  vanished  strangely  under 
that  woman-like  girl's  gaze. 

"  I  have  come  to  bid  you  farewell, 
Susie.  To-morrow  I  start  North  to 
take  a  place  as  assistant  chemist  in  the 
college,"  I  stammered. 

"  Mr.  Drew,"  she  replied,  ignoring 
my  speech,  "  please  do  not  come  again 
to  my  home."  She  hesitated  an  instant 
and  then  continued :  "  I  retract  my 
hasty  words  of  welcome.  Come  no 
more  to  my  home.  Avoid  Cupe  ;  avoid 
Dinah  ;  beware  of  Red  Head." 

"  And  why  should  I  beware  of  Red 
Head  ?  Do  you  think  I  fear  that  over 
grown  bit  of  mountain  scrub  stock?" 

A  flush  came  to  the  girl's  cheek. 
"  He  has  an  inherited  method  of  settling 

o 

his  differences  in  which  you  are  at  a  dis 
advantage.  Knowing  this,  I  warn  you." 

127 


"Susie,"  I  replied,  "I  have  no  fear 
of  Red  Head.  It  is  true  his  methods 
are  different  from  mine,  and  also  that 
he  is  stronger.  But  these  things  give 
me  no  concern.  May  I  not  tell  you 
now  that  which  I  came  to  say?  I  love! 
you,  Susie.  May  I  not  — " 

"  Please  bid  me  good-bye,"  she  in 
terrupted,  and  then  rapidly  continued: 
"  Mr.  Drew,  youth  has  been  to  me  a 
strange  story  of  negro  lore  and  super 
stition,  of  human  neglect  and  inhuman 
loneliness.  I  remember  less  of  pleasure 
than  of  trouble,  less  of  kindness  than  of 
rudeness.  Prematurely  old  in  some 
things  am  I,  but  not  through  self- 
fault.  No  girl  companion  crosses  the 
threshold  of  my  home,  nor  do  I  meet 
any  in  their  own.  Alone  with  Cupe  and  i 
Dinah,  nearly  as  old  in  feeling,  I  some 
times  imagine,  as  they  are,  I  have  become 
nearly  a  social  outcast ;  and  yet,  thanks 


Sammy's  Promise 

to  a  few  kind  friends,  I  am  not  deficient 
in  manner  or  education.  You  have  been 
kind  in  thinking  of  me,  yet  unwise  and 
indiscreet.  Your  course  is  sure  to  lead 
to  trouble." 

"  You  are  wrong,  Susie,"  I  cried. 

"  Does  your  mother  know  of  these 
visits  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No."      I  felt  my  face  glow. 

"  Believe  me,  Mr.  Drew,  I  know  bet 
ter  than  you  these  things  I  reason  over, 
but  which  to  you  are  emotional  only." 
Her  eyes  met  mine,  and  I  saw  that  they 
were  filled  with  tears. 

"  May  I  not  hope,  Susie  ?  " 

"  No.  It  is  best  that  we  part  forever. 
Good-bye." 

Crestfallen,  I  turned  to  depart,  a  dis 
carded  lover,  —  discarded,  as  I  felt,  for 
that  mountain  boy. 

"  Mr.  Drew." 

I  turned  back. 

9  129 


Red  Head 

May    I    have    the    flower    you    are 


wearing 


her   and 
you    do 


In  silence  I  handed  it  to 
added :  "  Susie,  even  though 
drive  me  away,  if  ever  you  wish  a  friend, 
bring  me  that  flower.  Let  it  be  a  tal 
isman  between  us.  Come  to  me  in  case 
you  wish  a  favor.  Whatever  it  may  be, 
and  wherever  I  may  be,  you  have  but  to 
ask." 

Low  was  the  voice  that  murmured, 
"  Good-bye."  Then,  while  I  stood 
watching,  Susie  turned  and  walked  back 
over  the  path,  vanishing  around  the 
clump  of  hazel,  and  I  turned  toward 
Stringtown. 

As  the  old  stage  rolled  down  the  pike 
the  following  day,  I  sat  again  beside  the 
driver.  To  my  mind  came  a  pathetic 
plea  Susie  once  had  made  for  such  out 
casts  from  society  as  Red  Head  and 
.herself;  and  just  then,  as  the  driver 
130 


Sammy's  Promise 

stopped  the  team  in  order  to  arrange 
a  defective  piece  of  harness,  I  perceived 
Red  Head  himself  beneath  a  tree  at  the 
right-hand  side  of  the  road.  Tall,  erect, 
lithe,  not  more  than  twenty  feet  from 
me,  he  gazed  directly  into  my  face.  I 
raised  my  hat  and  formally  bowed.  But 
he  gazed  stoically  into  my  face  and  whis 
tled.  Then  I  thought  of  his  parting 
words  when  once  he  spoke  about  the 
path  upon  which  we  might  meet.  I 
thought  too  of  Susie's  warning,  "  Be 
ware  of  Red  Head,"  and  in  a  low  tone, 
that  was  the  more  effective  because  of 
this  fact,  I  asked  : 

"  Why  do  you  not  go  back  to  the 
mountains  ;  cannot  you  handle  a  Spring 
field  rifle  yet  ? "  He  made  no  reply, 
and  I  continued  : 

"  How  about  that  mountain  feud  ? 
Holcomb  will  get  tired  of  waiting  for 
you  to  grow  bigger." 


Red  Head 

Indifferent  to  the  taunt,  he  stood  mo 
tionless.  The  coach  now  moved  on,  and 
as  it  did  so  I  spoke  again:  "You  're  very 
willing  to  talk  fight,  you  who  dare  not 
go  back  to  the  mountains  where  lives 
old  man  Holcomb."  But  even  this 
brought  no  reply;  like  a  statue  he  re 
mained  in  the  shadow  until  the  stage 
turned  a  bend  in  the  pike,  blotting  "  the 
last  of  the  Red  Heads"  from  view. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE  PROFESSOR  OF  CHEMISTRY 

A  CHARMING  old  man  was 
Professor  Longman,  with  whom 
I  began  my  work  as  assistant 
in  the  University  on  the  Hill.  En 
grossed  was  he  in  love  of  nature  and 
of  science.  Alas  !  within  a  year  he  sick 
ened  and  died,  leaving  to  me  the  entire 
responsibility  of  the  class  ;  which,  how 
ever,  I  met  so  well  as  to  induce  the 
trustees,  at  the  end  of  the  term,  to  offer 
me  the  vacant  position.  Would  that  I 
had  declined  the  honor,  for  had  I  done 
so,  this  story  of  Red  Head  could  never 
have  been  written.  But  youth  is  am- 


Red  Head 

bitious,  and  honors  such  as  this  are 
rarely  attained,  and  still  more  rarely 
declined. 

The  middle  of  the  session  following 
my  appointment  found  me  one  day  sit 
ting  in  my  private  office  reading  a  letter 
from  my  mother.  It  contained  the  usual 
loving  messages,  and  the  neighboring 
gossip  was  also  brought  to  date.  But 
its  ending,  which  I  reproduce,  cast  a 
shadow  over  my  heart : 

"  Mr.  Nordman  died  suddenly  this  morn 
ing.  He  had  been  very  feeble,  but  otherwise 
seemed  to  enjoy  good  health.  Attacked  with 
a  misery  in  his  stomach  immediately  after 
breakfast,  he  died  soon  after  the  doctor  reached 
his  bedside." 

I  held  the  letter  listlessly  in  my  hand 
and  mused.  "  The  remedy  I  prescribed 
when  last  we  met,  golden  seal  and  laud 
anum,  could  not  save  him,"  I  said. 


The  Professor  of  Chemistry 

Then  recurred  the  words  he  once  spoke 
as  together  we  stood  down  in  the  orchard 
back  of  his  house  beside  the  graves  of 
his  two  soldier  sons.  "  The  grass  grows 
no  greener,  the  violets  bloom  no  earlier 
over  the  boy  in  gray  than  over  the  other 
in  blue.  The  wah  is  over,  Sammy." 
"  The  war  is  surely  over  for  you,  Mr. 
Nordman,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  but  not 
for  Red  Head  and  me."  Then  I  turned 
to  my  work. 

Next  day  I  received  a  second  letter 
bearing  the  Stringtown  post-mark,  but 
this  was  in  an  unfamiliar  hand.  Let  me 
give  it  in  full : 

MY  "DEAR  PROF.  DREW, —  As  prose 
cuting  attorney  of  Stringtown  County,  it  be 
comes  my  duty  to  engage  an  expert  chemist 
in  behalf  of  the  Commonwealth.  Can  I  secure 
your  services  ?  Knowing  you  as  I  do,  and 
knowing,  too,  the  esteem  in  which  you  are 
held  by  the  people  of  our  county,  I  hope 


"k, 


ysx&z. 

"•^^     t^^lt.  • 

^     •••;;«' 


Red  Head 

that  you  will  consent  to  serve  us.  We  wish  an 
analysis  made  of  the  contents  of  the  stomach 
of  Mr.  Nordman,  whom  you  probably  re 
member.  I  can  add  that  I  will  guarantee  your 
fee,  to  be  paid  by  the  administrator  of  the 
estate.  Please  let  me  hear  from  you  im 
mediately. 

Sincerely  yours, 

Z.  P.  PUTTEN. 

I  turned  to  my  desk  and  at  once  ac 
cepted  the  offer,  giving  explicit  directions 
concerning  the  manner  in  which  the  sus 
pected  parts  were  to  be  secured,  sealed 
in  the  presence  of  witnesses,  and  then  ex 
pressed  to  my  address.  In  a  few  days 
the  package  reached  me.  William,  my 
assistant,  opened  the  box  and  removed 
from  it  the  large  glass  jar  closely  wrapped 
in  stiff  manila  paper  and  sealed  with  red 
wax  bearing  the  official  stamp  of  the 
sheriff.  I  felt  now  a  sinking  of  the 

heart,   but    had    accepted    the    responsi- 

136 


\   '•  vt 

,  ,     ^r  "*.   ''^cLt 

k  ./i^  '  **£*£:    '*,•'': 


The  Professor  of  Chemistry 

bility  and  turned  to  my  test  tubes  and 
reagents. 

For  a  time  the  results  were  negative, 
and  when  the  usual  metallic  poisons  were 
dismissed,  I  turned  to  search  for  the 
vegetable  bodies  known  as  alkaloids, 
which  are  often  so  energetic  in  action  ; 
strychnine,  morphine,  atropine,  being 
specimens  of  the  class.  As  the  two 
liquids  mingled,  a  white  cloud  sprang 
into  view.  I  turned  to  my  assistant;  our 
eyes  met.  Again  the  reaction  occurred 
with  one  after  another  of  the  reagents 
for  alkaloids.  Then,  as  I  made  a  care 
ful  record  of  .the  result  in  my  note-book, 
I  said  :  "  The  next  step  is  to  identify 
the  alkaloid." 

"  I  would  expect  strychnine,"  my  as 
sistant  remarked,  "  for  these  precipitates 
seem  to  me  much  like  those  of  strych 


nine. 


That  point  must  be  determined,"  I 

137  . 


Red  Head 

replied.  "  It  may  be  strychnine,  or  a 
mixture.  I  shall  not  prejudice  myself 
concerning  it."  And  in  the  end,  after 
several  days  had  passed,  I  was  fairly  well 
satisfied,  although  there  were  some  points 
in  connection  with  the  chrome-sulphuric 
acid  test  which  puzzled  me. 

The  blue-violet  color  surely  did  appear, 
but  it  was  not  altogether  as  I  should 
have  liked.  But  after  I  obtained  white 
microscopic  crystals  of  an  alkaloid  on  a 
slide  which  also  gave  the  reaction,  I  said  : 

"  You  were  correct  in  your  prediction, 
William ;  strychnine  must  be  present, 
and  such  shall  be  my  testimony  before 
the  Court  of  Stringtown  County." 

But  that  evening,  for  the  first  time,  mis 
givings  arose  in  my  mind.  They  came 
during  the  dinner  hour,  when  a  compan 
ion  made  an  idle  query  that  I  could 
not  satisfactorily  answer,  and  so  turned 
lightly  aside ;  but  it  led  me  to  question- 
138 


The  Professor  of  Chemistry 

ings.  I  sought  my  room  and  picked  up 
a  light  novel,  but  could  not  interest 
myself  in  its  contents.  I  turned  to 
Chambers'  Miscellany,  and  by  chance 
opened  Volume  II.,  to  the  record  of  cases 
wherein  many  men  had  suffered  death 
on  circumstantial  evidence  that  in  itself 
seemed,  with  each  case,  to  be  conclusive 
of  guilt,  but  which  afterward  was  shown 
to  be  erroneous. 

Closing  the  book,  I  drew  on  my  over 
coat,  and  in  a  gathering  winter  storm 
started  for  my  laboratory.  It  was  dark, 
very  dark,  and  yet  I  went  on  in  the 
night,  for  my  disconcerted  emotions  im 
pelled  me  to  go  then  and  to  go  there. 
Lighting  up  my  room,  I  took  out  the 
reagents  and  the  suspected  liquid,  and 
carefully  verified  the  reactions.  Then 
while  I  stood  involved  in  thought,  with 
my  hand  upon  the  pile  of  volumes,  I 
spoke  aloud  : 

139 


-  •' .-  -:~"-f"f;^  .»•  r^ttf-- 

-  -   '  ,    .i->'.»  fr  •„••': 

'.  •'  v3i«F«*vi> 


Red  Head 

"  If  there  be  error  in  this  work,  which 
I  have  done,  you  are  at  fault,  not  I. 
But  why  should  I  hesitate  ?  How  can 
any  disciple  of  science  dare  to  question 
authorities  such  as  these  ?  " 

I  raised  the  window  and  leaned  out. 
The  scattered  flakes  of  snow  that  were 
falling  struck  my  heated  forehead,  im 
parting  a  pleasant  tingle  with  each  tiny 
contact.  The  cool  air  was  refreshing, 
for  my  brain  was  hot.  Across  the  fields 
of  vision  came  then  a  stream  of  moving 
lights  ;  the  night  train  from  the  South 
was  approaching,  and  I  watched  it  until 
the  animated  creation  disappeared  from 
view  behind  the  building.  Next  I  heard 
it  whistle  for  the  station.  Feeling  better 
now,  I  again  turned  to  the  tube  I  yet 
held  in  hand  preparatory  to  the  final 
test,  my  back  to  the  door,  and  was 
thus  employed  when  it  opened.  A 
voice  I  knew  well  spoke :  "  May  I 


v '  *f  «*r  ^  «*,^ v   /&Kfr 

'.          .J/fl  f     \Mb  '',7        /\&3/   ^y 

&  fflr  •#&*  M 

'^jm&^M^-  :?-• 


The  Professor  of  Chemistry 

come  in,  Dr.  Drew  ?     I  would  speak  to 
you." 

I  turned  my  head.  There  stood 
Susie,  older,  more  mature,  but  Susie  of 
Stringtown.  In  the  background  ap 
peared  the  familiar  face  of  old  Cupe. 
I  replaced  the  tube  and  extended  my 
hand  to  the  girl.  "  Susie,"  I  said,  as  I 
asked  her  to  be  seated,  "  this  is  unex 
pected." 

Unconsciously  I  glanced  at  the  clock ; 
the  girl's  eyes  followed  mine.  "  It  is 
late,  Professor  Drew,  but  the  train  was 
behind  time  and  I  must  return  early 
to-morrow  morning."  She  spoke  re 
servedly.  "  I  came  to  ask  a  question, 
perhaps  to  beg  a  tavor." 

"  If  in  my  power,  you  need  only  ask 
it." 

"  Promise  me  not  to  visit  Stringtown 
until  after  the  next  session  of  our  quar 
terly  Court." 

141 


Red  Head 

"  Susie,  my  reputation  and  my  duty 
demand  that  I  attend  that  Court  as 
expert  witness,  I  cannot  break  my 
contract." 

"  A  friend  of  yours  bids  me  add  a 
word  to  you  in  case  my  pleadings  fail,  — 
a  friend  who  knows  of  my  visit  here." 

"  And  who  may  this  friend  be  ?  " 

"  Judge  Elford.  '  Tell  Sammy  I  say 
keep  away  from  Stringtown  during  the 
coming  Court  session.' ' 

"  The  Judge  has  spoken  too  late,  and 
you  come  too  late,  Susie.  I  am  power 
less.  See,  —  "I  pointed  to  the  appara 
tus  about  me,  —  "  for  days  I  have  worked 
on  this  poison  case,  have  recorded  the 
results.  No  time  is  left  for  another  to 
qualify  himself.  I  am  ready  to  testify  to 
the  facts.  I  must  go  ;  duty  demands  it." 

"  And  so  by  means  of  these  glasses 
you  have  established  the  nature  of  events 

that   once  occurred    in    Stringtown.     A 
142 


The  Professor  of  Chemistry 

j 

man  you  have  not  seen  for  years  has 
died,  and  you  propose  to  give  evidence 
concerning  the  cause  of  his  death  ?  " 

"Yes." 

The  young  woman  approached  and 
looked  me  in  the  eye.  "  Do  the  glasses 
say  that  Mr.  Nordman  died  of  poison  ?  " 
Coldly  was  this  spoken. 

"  Yes,  but  I  beg  you  to  keep  the  fact 
to  yourself.  I  should  not  tell  this." 

She  dropped  to  her  knees.  "  No  !  I 
say  no  !  he  was  not  poisoned  !  "  She 
wrung  her  hands.  "  No,  Mr.  Drew,  I 
say  it  was  not  poison,  even  if  your  science 
proves  it  ! " 

"  Compose  yourself,  Susie." 

She  drew  from  her  bosom  a  folded 
paper  and  took  from  it  a  pressed  and 
dried  blue  flower.  "When  we  stood  in 
the  path  near  my  home  in  Kentucky  the 
day  we  last  met,  you  gave  me  this  flower, 
and  of  your  own  accord  told  me  that 
143 


Red  Head 

if  ever  I  wished  a  favor  and  presented 
this  flower,  the  favor  would  be  granted. 

•  D 

'  Whatever  it  may  be  and  wherever  I 
shall  be}  you  said,  < you  have  but  to  ask.' 
I  bring  you  now  the  flower  and  on  my 
knees  1  beg  you  to  fulfil  the  promise 
made  long  before  you  contracted  with 
Mr.  Putten.  Is  not  the  word  given  to 
me  in  the  years  that  have  passed  more 
sacred  than  the  legal  contract  you  made 
but  a  few  days  ago  ?  I  ask  you  to  drop 
this  case,  come  not  to  Stringtown  during 
the  next  term  of  court.  Believe  in  me, 
Mr.  Drew  ;  accept  my  pleadings,  believe 
that  I  am  right,  whatever  proof  to  the 
contrary  you  think  you  find  in  these 
tubes  and  vessels." 

I    cannot.     Ask  anything   else    but 
this." 

Dropping  the  withered  flower  on  the 
floor,  she  arose  and  placed  her  foot  upon 
it.     "  And  this  you  call  duty,  this  break- 
144 


>  „•'•'  «*-"  //VJ/ 

.•*tf?y        / 


^ 


"» 
/  x 


/ 

\^ 


The  Professor  of  Chemistry 

ing  of  a  sacred  promise  given  to  one  who 
treasured  your  words  !     I  call  it  murder, 

for  your  testimony  will  hang  an  innocent 

i  » 

man  ! 

"  Of  whom  do  you  speak,  Susie  ? 
Whom  am  I  to  hang  on  my  evidence  ?  " 

"  Do  you  not  know?  " 

"  I  do  not." 

"  Red  Head.  He  is  charged  with 
poisoning  Mr.  Nordman,  and  lies  now 
in  the  jail  of  Stringtown  County." 

Into  my  heart  came  then  a  sensation 
akin  to  exultation.  Red  .Head,  my  an 
tagonist  of  former  times,  my  rival, 
charged  with  murder,  and  the  evidence 
of  his  guilt  resting  in  my  hands  ! 

"  Susie,"  I  said,  and  I  spoke  with  de 
liberation,  "  do  you  remember  the  even 
ing  Red  Head  held  my  hands  together, 
and  sneered  in  my  face,  the  evening  in 
your  home  when  I  told  him  that  never 
again  would  I  fight  him  after  the  manner 

10  145 


Red  Head 

brutes  fight  ?  Do  you  recollect  that  I 
said  the  time  would  come  when  I  could 
use  my  brain  instead  of  my  fists,  and  pre 
dicted  that  brain  would  win  ?  Do  you 
recollect  that? " 

The  girl  no  longer  shrank  from  me, 
she  no  longer  stood  in  supplication, 
but  with  erect  head  and  flashing  eyes, 
answered  : 

"  He  is  not  guilty,  and  he  must  not 
hang.  Now  I  shall  seek  the  man  who 
will  listen  to  the  appeal  of  justice,  who 
can  stand  between  this  uncultured  coun 
try  boy  and  the  scaffold.  I  came  to  you 
of  my  own  free  will,  not  by  the  counsel 
or  consent  of  Red  Head.  He  defies 
both  you  and  your  art;  he  said  to  me: 
'  Go  to  the  mountains  of  Eastern  Ken 
tucky,  take  this  letter'  (she  drew  a  letter 
from  her  pocket),  ( find  the  man  ad 
dressed,  and  say  to  him  that  Red  Head 

lies   in    the  jail  of  Stringtown   County, 
146 

MM 


The  Professor  of  Chemistry 

charged   with    murder    that    he   did    not 

j     '  " 
do. 

She  did  not  put  the  letter  into  my 
hand,  but  held  it  before  my  eyes  so  that 
I  could  read  the  superscription : 

OLD    MAN    HOLCOMB, 

BALD    KNOB, 

KENTUCKY. 


»  li 


CHAPTER    XV 

HOLCOMB 

THE  girl  who  so  recently  pleaded 
for  the  life  of  Red  Head,  pre 
ceded  by  a  guide,  was  now 
traversing  the  Eastern  Kentucky  moun 
tain  wilds  on  the  back  of  a  mule.  For 
some  days  they  had  been  beyond  the 
track  of  even  mountain  wagon-wheels. 
The  bluffs  were  always  present  either 
overhanging  above  or  precipitous  below. 
The  streams  were  often  bank-full,  so 
that  long  circuits  were  necessary.  At 
last  they  neared  a  deserted  cabin,  win- 
dowless  and  roofless.  The  chimney  had 
fallen  in,  the  logs  were  decayed,  and  the 

mud    chinking    between    them   had  dis- 
14$ 


Holcomb 

appeared.  A  brook  ran  in  the  gulch 
near,  while  behind  stretched  a  rock-clad 
hog-back  hill  that  separated  this  brook 
from  the  stream  beyond.  The  young 
mountaineer  tramped  the  briars  to  the 
site  of  the  old  cabin,  the  girl  following. 

"Here's  the  place,"  he  said,  "the 
old  home  of  them  Red  Heads,  but  et 
ain't  no  great  shakes." 

The  girl  stood  a  moment  before  the 
scene  of  desolation,  and  her  mind  re 
verted  to  the  Stringtown  school-house 
and  the  story  of  the  feud  as  there  related 
by  the  red-headed  boy.  The  door  was 
gone,  but  fragments  of  the  casing  still 
hung  by  two  beaten  iron  nails  ;  the  rests 
for  the  iron  bar  that  once  held  the  door 
were  yet  in  place  in  the  logs  beside 
the  doorway.  She  seated  herself  on  the 
heavy  timber-sill.  Her  eyes  fell  to  the 
projecting  log  in  the  doorway  by  her 

side.     A  dark  blue  piece  of  metal  half 
149 


Red  Head 

covered  with  a  white  crust  —  from  about 
which  the  wood  had  partly  rotted  away 
—  was  imbedded  in  the  end.  With  her 
fingers  she  scraped  the  soft  wood-mould 
away,  and  then  raised  from  its  resting- 
place  the  flattened,  weather-corroded 
minnie  bullet,  upon  which  were  still 
to  be  seen  the  creases  that  once  held 
the  cartridge-shell  in  place.  A  shudder 
came  over  her ;  she  dropped  the  frag 
ment  into  her  pocket  and  raised  her 
eyes ;  there  in  the  trail  below  them,  the 
muzzle  of  a  long  gun  in  his  hand,  stood 
a  tall,  grizzled  old  man.  At  this  instant 
the  guide  caught  sight  of  the  intruder. 

"  Thet's  him." 

"  Who  ? " 

"  OF  Holcomb." 

The  girl  arose  and  started  along  the 
path  back  toward  the  man.  His  form 
was  lank  and  uncouth,  his  hair  thin  and 
white,  his  face  covered  with  a  crop  of 
150 


Holcomb 

beard  that  had  been  roughly  trimmed 
with  the  scissors.  He  did  not  speak, 
nor  did  the  girl  until  she  stood  close 
beside  him. 

"  Are  you  Mr.  Holcomb  ?  " 

"  I  'm  Ol'  Holcomb." 

"  I  came  to  bring  you  a  message." 

"Who  from?" 

"  Red  Head." 

"  He  's  a  coward." 

The  girl's  eyes  flashed,  her  fingers 
clenched  hard  together,  the  bullet  in 
her  pocket  burned  the  flesh  against 
which  it  pressed.  She  took  it  out  and 
held  the  .disfigured  mass  of  lead  before 
his  face. 

"  He  was  n't  coward  enough  to  shoot 
an  ounce  of  lead  through  a  four-year-old 
child." 

Not  a  movement  did  the  man  make. 
His  eye  pierced  her  through,  but  she 
did  not  flinch.  "  And  who  be  yo'  ter 


Red  Head 

tell  Holcomb  this?  D'  y'  wanter  wedge 
inter  the  feud  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  who  I  am.  I  know 
who  you  are  and  what  you  did.  But 
I  do  not  seek  you  to  talk  over  these 
things.  I  came  to  deliver  a  message." 
She  took  from  her  pocket  the  letter  she 
had  already  shown  to  Professor  Drew, 
and  held  it  out. 

Without  opening  it,  the  man  asked  : 
"  And  hev  yo'  come  fur  ?  " 

"  From  Stringtown." 

"  Yo'  can't  git  back  ter  Hawley's 
claim  ternight,  and  thet's  the  nearest 
stoppin'  place.  Yore  shoes  air  thin 
and  yo'  air  shiverin'  like  a  young  lamb 
in  sleety  weather.  Yo'  wants  ter  be 
warmed  up  'n'  fed,  and  yo  'd  better  go 
crost  the  divide  ter  my  cabin,  and  we  '11 
settle  the  other  matter  thar.  You  '11 
hev  ter  stay  all  night  ha'ar'bouts." 

These  words  were  spoken  in  a  kindly 
152 


Holcomb 

tone,  and  the  girl  realized  that  he  told 
the  truth,  but  she  knew,  too,  that  excite 
ment,  not  cold,  was  responsible  for  her 
shivering. 

In  the  common  room  of  that  cabin, 
while  she  sat  close  to  the  fire,  Holcomb 
held  the  letter  long  in  his  hands,  turning 
it  about,  eying  it  curiously.  "  Guess 
yo  '11  hev  ter  read  et  ter  me,"  he  said  ; 
then  tore  it  open  and  handed  it  to  the 
girl,  who  complied,  reading  as  follows  : 

HOLCOMB  :  I  'm  Red  Head.  I  did  n't 
come  back  ter  the  moun'ns  ter  finish  the  feud 
'cause  I  promised  Susie  not  ter  fight  lessen 
she  married  Drew.  Then  I  'tended  ter  whip 
Drew  first  and  shoot  you  next.  But  I  can't 
do  neither,  fer  I  'm  in  jail.  Drew  's  got  the 
pull,  too,  and  lessen  I  git  help  he  '11  hang  me 
fer  killin'  a  man  I  did  n't  kill.  I  'm  not  a 
pizoner  and  you  knows  thet  too.  I  'm  not  a 
coward  and  you  knows  et.  What  I  wants  es 
fer  you  ter  come  ter  Stringtown  and  keep  me 
from  bein'  hung.  You  ain't  much  of  a  friend, 


'S3 


Red  Head 

but  you  Ve  got  grit  and  sense  and  kin  shoot, 
and  thet  's  the  kind  of  a  friend  I  needs  now. 
You  know  et  'ud  disgrace  the  fam'ly  you 
fought  fer  and  the  fam'ly  you  fought,  fer  me 
ter  be  hung  and  I  mus'  n't  be  hung.  Ef 
you  '11  come,  tell  Susie  and  she  '11  tell  me. 
Come  ter  the  Stringtown  County  Court  and 
stop  the  hangin'  and  end  the  feud. 

RED  HEAD. 

When  the  girl  ceased  reading,  Hoi- 
comb  again  scrutinized  the  letter.  Evi 
dently  his  thoughts  were  not  altogether 
in  the  present,  for  after  a  period  of 
silence  he  musingly  remarked : 

"Ef  he's  like  his  kin,  et's  the  truth 
he  told  when  he  said  thet  he's  not 
a  coward.  Them  war  a  brave  farn'ly 
and  grit,  else  thar  'd  been  more  'n  one 
Holcomb  livin'.  I  'm  the  last  of  the 
Holcombs,  child." 

Turning  to  the  girl,  he  said  abruptly  : 
"  I  Ve  sot  in  this  old  cabin  nigh  on  ter 
154 


C<HE  seated  herself  on  the  heavy 


D 


timber-sill.  —  Page  1 49 


Holcomb 

fifteen    years    waitin'     fer     Red     Head. 

I  Ve  watched  the  trail  in  winter  and  laid 

in  the  shade  in  summer,  fightin'  skeeters 

and    flies   and   keepin'   my  eyes   on    the 

path    ter    git    the    drop   on    him    before 

he    seed     me.      But     he     didn't    come. 

Then  I  thunk  thet  he'd  turned  coward, 

but  no  Red   Head  I   ever  heerd  tell  of 

ever    showed    the   white    feather,  V   he 

said,  too,  when  he  left,  'Tell   Holcomb 

I'll    be    back    when     I     kin    handle    a 

Springfield    gun.'       And    when    I    seed 

you    two    a-ridin'    up    the    gully    I    felt 

monstrous    good,  fer   I    thought   p'raps 

he'd     come     back,     but     without     his 

moun'n.  manners,  fer  no  moun'n  man  in 

a  feud  would   hev  rid  in  the  open  like 

you  did.      I   seen  yo'  tramp  up  ter  the 

cabin  and  set  down  and  pick  the  bullet 

out  of  the  log.     Then  you  saw  me,  fer  I 

seed  thet  black-ha'red  fellar  wa'  n't  Red 

Head,  and  jest  stepped  inter  sight." 


'•^J&&% 

3~3£jf* 


Red  Head 

The  girl  shuddered,  and  Holcomb 
said  :  "  Set  closer  ter  the  fire,  little  one. 
I  'm  pow'ful  sorry  fer  sech  squeemish 
buds  es  you  be."  Then  he  asked : 
"  Red  Head  's  in  jail,  the  writin'  says  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Fer  killin'  a  man  ?" 

"  Yes."  . 

"  War  et  on  the  squar'  ?  " 

"He  did  n't  kill  him.  Mr.  Nordman 
died  suddenly,  and  Red  Head  is  charged 
with  giving  him  poison." 

Holcomb  sat  in  silence  a  time,  and 
then  spoke  in  reverie:  "And  he  axes 
help  from  Holcomb,  me  who  wanted 
ter  shoot  him  before  I  died,  me  who 
killed  his  father  and  his  mother  and 
his  little  sister,  me  who  hev  lived  alone 
in  this  cabin  fer  'bout  fifteen  years  'cause 
his  gun  and  the  guns  of  his  kin  hed 
killed  every  other  Holcomb  but  me. 
Et's  a  shame  thet  sech  a  fam'ly  es 
156 


Holcomb 

his  *n  and  sech  a  fam'ly  es  our'n  should 
be  disgraced  by  the  puttin'  of  one  of 
'em  in  jail  fer  pizonin'.  I  wants  ter 
shoot  Red  Head  'cause  of  the  feud,  and 
I  wants  ter  shoot  him  pow'ful  much, 
fer  them  are  fine  people,  them  Red 
Heads,  but  ef  he  gits  hung  we  can't 
fight  et  out,  fer  he 's  the  last  of  his 
faction."  Turning  to  the  girl  again, 
he  asked:  "Air  yo'  sure  thet  he  didn't 
pizon  the  man  ?  " 

"  I  know  he  did  not.  He  swore  to 
me  on  his  bended  knees  that  he  did 
not,  and  —  he  loves  me." 

"  And  yo'  loves  him  ?  " 

"  I  am  his  friend." 

"Only  his  friend?"  Close  fixed  upon 
her  face  were  the  eyes  of  Holcomb. 

Earnestly  did  the  girl  reply:    "Alone 
in   the   world  is   Red   Head,  hunted  his 
life  through  was  he,  by  whom,  I  ask  ? " 
Now  her  eyes  held   Holcomb. 
157 


Red  Head 

"  By  the  last  of  the  Holcombs.  Go 
on,  girl." 

"  I  too  have  been  alone  in  life,  and 
now  that  Red  Head  is  no  longer  where 
you  can  shoot  him  down,  I  come  to  you, 
you,  the  last  of  the  Holcombs,  to  ask 
for  him  a  final  favor.  Go  to  String- 

o 

town,  where  in  Stringtown  County  jail 
lies  the  last  of  the  Red  Heads.  Please 
do  this,  and  then  do  his  bidding." 

"Chick,"  —the  old  man  reached  out 
his  lank  hand  and  gently  stroked  her 
hair, —  "Chick,  Holcomb  is  awful  sorry 
fer  yo  'uns,  fer  Holcomb  es  bound  ter 
kill  thet  boy."  Then  he  mused  again. 
"Child,  ef  Holcomb '11  swar'  off  the 
feud,  and  go  ter  Stringtown  and  save 
Red  Head,  will  yo'  marry  Red  Head 
and  move  ter  the  moun'ns  ?  " 

The  girl  covered  her  face  with  her 
handkerchief. 

"And  ef  Holcomb '11  make  over  his 
158 


<r*r^-2$  7WPK-* . 
F\W&tffi$* 


Holcomb 

property  ter  Red  Head  and  yo'  (this 
moun'n  b'longs  ter  me),  will  yo'  name 
the  first  boy  Holcomb  Red  Head?  " 

The  girl  made  no  reply,  but  sobbed 
quietly. 

"Thar  ain't  no  use  in  sayin'  nuthin' 
more.  Yo  'uns  understands  we  'uns, 
and  yo'  kin  go  back  ter  Stringtown 
and  say  ter  Red  Head  these  words : 
1  Ol'  Holcomb  says,  says  he,  thet  he'll 
be  on  hand  when  the  day  comes  fer 
business,  and  thet  he  '11  save  the  honor 
of  the  two  fam'lies  one  way  er  nuther.' 
For  a  moment  the  man  mused  and  then 
added,  "  Thet  is,  child,  ef  the  witch  says 

go-" 

"  The- witch?"  the  girl  looked  startled 

as  she  repeated  the  words. 
"  Yes." 


'/" 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE  SECOND  JOURNEY  TO  WITCH 
MERRIE'S  CAVE 

HOLCOMB    rested  his    head   on 
his  hand.     Thus  he  sat  in  medi-j 
tation  ;  then,  rising,  he  spoke. 
"  She  's  got   ter   hev   her  say.      Dare 
yo'  go  and  see  her  ?  " 
"Who?" 
"  Witch  Merrie." 
The    girl    shuddered.       "  She    it    was 

o 

who     stirred     the     feud     between     your 

families." 

"  The  witch  seen  et  comin',  child." 
"  She    made   it.      This   I   catch    from 

Red   Head's  story." 


Witch  Merrie's  Cave 

"  Dare  yo'  go  to  her  cave  ?  Kin  yo' 
stand  the  journey  ?  " 

"  Yes,  anything,  anywhere.  When 
shall  we  start  ?  " 

"  Ter-night.  Et  must  be  in  the  night :, 
fer  she  won't  see  nobody  in  daylight. 
She  sleeps  in  daytime."  The  speaker 
arose  and  drew  on  a  heavier  coat.  The 
girl  wrapped  her  shawl  about  her  head 
and  shoulders,  pinning  it  close.  Pres 
ently,  the  forms  of  the  two  adventurers 
disappeared  in  the  gloom.  Needless  is 
it  to  describe  this  second  journey  to  the 
cave  by  the  waterfall.  Fifty  years  had 
passed  since  the  first  Red  Head  had 
sought  the  witch  ;  fifty  years  of  passion 
and  crime.  The  mountain  path  was 
yet  about  as  when  the  feudist  ancestor 
trod  it;  seemingly  time  had  made  in 
it  no  change.  Strange  how  a  path  holds 
its  place  when  stone  crumbles  away. 
And  Holcomb  knew  its  winding,  tortu- 
161 


Red  Head 

ous  way   as   did  his   father's   enemy   of 
old. 

At  last  the  murmur  of  the  waterfall 
was  heard  in  the  distance,  the  adjacent 
bluffs  were  next  slowly  climbed,  the  girl 
being  assisted,  almost  carried  by  the 
hardy  mountaineer.  The  sound  of  fall 
ing  water  increased  as  the  night  travellers 
neared  the  cataract,  to  stand  at  last  on 
the  table  rock  before  the  entrance  to  the 
cavern  of  the  witch.  The  full  moon 
cast  its  rays  directly  into  the  hole  in  the 
rock,  but  the  outer  light  seemed  only 
to  make  the  cavern's  mouth  blacker. 
Holcomb  stopped.  Evidently  he  did 
not  fancy  meeting  the  occupant  of  that 
home.  He  hesitated,  undecided  as  to 
what  should  be  his  next  move.  Strange 
that  men  such  as  he,  fearing  neither  the 
here  nor  the  hereafter,  thus  shrink  from 
a  poor  creature  about  whom  superstition 
uplifts  the  touch  of  magic.  Holding 


Witch  Merrie's  Cave 

now  the  girl's  hand  more  firmly  the 
mountaineer  turned  and  slowly  entered 
the  mouth  of  the  cavern  that  faced  the 
crest  of  the  waterfall. 

Was  it  fancy?  If  so,  both  caught  the 
touch  of  the  same  echo  of  the  unreal. 
Holcomb  stopped,  then  again  moved 
cautiously  on.  This  time  it  was  not 
fancy,  if  fancy  it  was  before.  A  voice, 
shrill  but  feeble,  laughed  first  a  weird 
"  Ha,  ha  !  ha,  ha  !  "  followed  by  "  Come 
in,  Holcomb,  come  in  and  get  your  last 
message  from  old  Witch  Merrie  !  " 

A  strange  welcome  this !  Turning 
an  angle  in-  the  passage,  a  feeble  light 
showed  a  shadow  form.  Bent  like  a 
half  hoop,  the  old  woman  came  slowly 
forward,  one  hand  grasping  a  staff  on 
which  she  leaned,  the  other  holding 
high  a  sycamore-ball  torch.  Slowly  she 
hobbled  forward;  the  light  flickered  and 

smoked,  the  shadows  played  weirdly  on 

163 


Red  Head 

the  cavern's  side.  Close  she  drew  and  j 
peered,  first  into  the  face  of  the  girl, 
next  into  that  of  her  companion.  Old 
and  wrinkled  and  ugly  was  she.  The 
girl  shuddered  and  drew  back.  "  Ha, 
ha  !  "  chuckled  the  witch  ;  "  and  so  you, 
Holcomb,  the  last  of  the  red  roses,  seek 
the  witch  of  the  waterfall." 

"  We  Ve  come  ter  ax  ef  I  kin  go  down 
ter  the  lowlands  and  help  Red  Head 
out  of  jail." 

The  witch  chuckled.  "  As  you  have 
helped  others  of  his  family,  yes.  As 
he  has  helped  others  of  your  family, 
yes.  You  need  each  other's  help." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  mother  ? "  the 
girl  spoke. 

Holding  the  torch  so  that  its  light 
fell  into  the  face  of  the  girl,  the  witch 
gazed  a  moment  into  her  eyes.  Her 
face  softened.  "  Child,  it  has  been  years 

and  years  since  I   stood  in  the  door  of 
164 


Witch  Merrie's  Cave 

the  church  and  since  the  new  young 
preacher  called  me  mother."  She  drew 
the  girl's  hand  close  to  her  face  and 
peered  into  its  palm.  "  Child,  you  are 
destined  to  a  life  of  peace,  you  who 
speak  a  kind  word  to  the  old  witch. 
A  life  of  peace,  after  the  war  of  these 
factions  is  over." 

"  And  me,  witch  ?  "  asked  Holcomb. 

"  Go  with  the  girl  and  end  the  feud." 
The  old  woman  moved  toward  the 
mouth  of  the  cavern.  She  hobbled  to 
the  brink  of  the  cliff.  Standing  thus 
she  pointed  down  the  path.  "  Go  to 
Stringtown  .as  the  girl  asks,  Holcomb." 
And  when  from  below  the  girl  looked 
back,  just  before  the  cliff's  brink  was 
cut  from  sight,  the  hoop-like  form  of 
the  witch  of  the  waterfall  was  silhouetted 
against  the  sky. 

Next  morning,  from  the  cabin  of  Hol 
comb  three  persons,  Holcomb  in  front, 
165 


Red  Head 

returned  along  the  mountain  trail.  All 
day  long,  with  his  heavy  rifle  over  his 
shoulder,  the  old  man  continued  in  the 
advance  ;  finally,  near  sundown,  he  relin 
quished  his  charge  to  another,  who  stood 
before  a  double  cabin  near  the  road,  and 
who  in  some  manner  had  been  advised  of 
their  approach  and  was  expecting  them. 
"  Yo  '11  stop  fer  the  night  hy'ar,  and  in 
the  mornin'  he  '11  see  yo'  ter  the  next 
stop.  Thar  ain't  no  danger  ter  yo  'uns 
in  these  moun'ns  now,  fer  Holcomb  hev 
passed  the  word  'long  thet  yo  're  his 
friend  and  air  ter  be  showed  ter  the 
stage  line.  Et  's  sure  death  ter  the 
feller  what  troubles  yo'." 

Taking  the  hand  of  the  girl  in  one  rough 
palm,  the  old  man  again  stroked  her 
hair  with  the  other,  as  he  had  done  in  the 
cabin,  gently,  tenderly.  In  a  low  tone, 
very  low,  he  said:  "And  yo '11  name 
the  first  baby  boy  Holcomb,  won't  you, 


Witch  Merrie's  Cave 

jest  fer  the  honor  of  the  two  fam'lies, 
and  fer  the  sake  of  the  old  man  who 
hain't  no  kin  left  ter  leave  his  name  ter." 
Then  he  turned  and  left  her  in  the  hands 
of  her  new  protector,  and  in  the  dusk  of 
the  evening  passed  from  sight  up  the 
gorge  that  led  back  into  the  higher 
mountains. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

"THERE'LL   BE    TROUBLE    IN   STRING- 
TOWN    COUNTY    NEXT   WEEK  !  "l 

THE  day  arrived  for  the  chemist 
of  the  university   to   return    to 
Stringtown  on  his   professional 
errand,  and  the   next  stage  bore   him  to 
the  scenes  of  his  childhood. 

That  evening  he  walked  down  the 
narrow  sidewalk  toward  the  grocery  store 
of  Mr.  Cumback,  meeting  on  the  way  a 
few  old  friends  and  several  strangers. 
A  group  of  men  sat  around  the  self- 

1  The  fact  that  the  story  changes  now  to  the  third 
person  is  a  liberty  some  may  not  be  willing  to  excuse, 
but  which  the  author  prefers,  regardless  of  authoritative 
precedent. 

168 


"There'll  Be  Trouble'1 

same  stove  in  the  grocery,  and  Mr. 
Curnback  stood  behind  the  counter. 
Most  of  the  faces  were  new,  although 
three  of  the  old-time  circle  were  present. 
But  how  changed.  Judge  Elford, 
grandly  patriarchal  in  appearance,  was 
very  feeble.  White  was  every  thread 
of  his  beard  and  of  his  flowing  hair. 
He  rose  as  the  chemist  entered  and 
grasped  his  hand.  His  eye  pierced 
him  through,  but  very  kindly  was  the 
eye-greeting. 

"  Welcome  back  to  Stringtown, 
Sammy,"  he  said.  "  For  years  we  have 
been  expecting  you  on  old  friendship's 
account,  but  now  that  you  have  come  on 
professional  business,  we  are  not  less  de 
lighted  to  greet  you."  Then  arm  linked 
in  arm,  he  drew  the  young  man  toward 
the  door.  "  Mr.  Drew  will  return 
another  evening.  I  would  speak  to  him 

in   the  quiet  of  my  home   to-night,"  he 

169 


Red  Head 

remarked.  Something  in  his  tone  led) 
the  hearer  to  know  that  the  Judge 
wished  to  talk  seriously,  and  as  if  to 
impress  the  fact  more  emphatically,  he 
walked  in  silence  to  his  door.  This  is 
the  substance  of  the  interview,  as  given 
by  Mr.  Drew  in  his  note-book  : 

"  Did  you  notice  the  tall,  white-haired 
man  who  left  the  room  before  we  did  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  That  man  has  been  in  Stringtown 
for  a  week.  He  stops  at  the  tavern,  but 
has  no  business  here,  unless  it  be  in  con 
nection  with  this  case  in  which  you  are 
concerned.  He  has  been  asking  ques 
tions  of  all  kinds  regarding  Red  Head 
and  yourself,  and  has  inquired  into  every 
detail  of  the  poisoning  affair.  He  has 
concerned  himself  much  in  Red  Head's 
record  since  he  came  among  us  as  a  boy. 
That  he  is  not  alone  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  many  uncouth  men  call  to 


"There'll  Be  Trouble' 

see  him,  but  they  soon  depart.  It  is 
rumored  that  he  is  a  friend  of  Red 
Head,  from  the  mountains." 

"  And  how  am  I  concerned,  Judge  ?  " 

"That  I  shall  now  tell  you,  Sammy. 
Would  that  you  had  kept  out  of  this 
case !  Were  you  not  asked  to  remain 
away  from  Stringtown  until  after  Court 
week  ?  "  His  eyes  were  upon  me. 

"Yes." 

"  And  Susie  told  you  that  such  was 
also  my  desire  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Did  you  forget  that  twice  you  prom 
ised  to  follow  my  advice  when  the  time 
arrived. for  you  to  grant  me  a  favor?  " 

I  made  no  reply. 

"  As  a  judge,  sworn  to  do  the  duty  of 
a  judge  to  this  great  Commonwealth  of 
Kentucky,  I  could  not  well  do  more. 
As  a  friend  to  you,  I  could  not  do  less. 
Why  did  you  not  take  the  advice  of 


Red  Head 

your  two  friends,  him  who  asked  the 
favor  and  her  who  bore  the  message  ?  " 
Before  I  could  answer,  he  continued : 
"  Ugly  things  are  being  said  in  String- 
town.  The  people  of  the  county,  too, 
are  disturbed  over  this  case.  There  are 
factions  among  us,  and  some  viciousness 
begins  to  creep  out ;  not  that  Red  Head 
has  made  many  friends,  but  that  this 
thing  of  sending  outside  the  State  for  an 
expert  to  testify  against  one  of  our  citi 
zens,  is  an  innovation." 

"  You  have  my  thanks  for  your  inter 
est,"  I  replied  with  reserve. 

"  Had  I  not  believed  that  you  would 
listen  to  her  pleadings,  I  might  have 
made  my  message  stronger,  but  it  is  now 
too  late.  Sammy,"  he  continued,  "  are 
you  satisfied  concerning  the  chemical 
provings  you  have  made  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

I  am  an  old  man,  my  child,  and  have 
172 


"There'll  Be  Trouble" 

sentenced  men  to  the  gallows  on  the  tes 
timony  of  witnesses  who  saw  the  plunge 
of  the  knife,  or  the  flash  of  the  pistol 
held  by  the  murderer.  But  never  yet 
have  I  been  forced  to  condemn  a  man  to 
the  gallows  on  the  evidence  of  a  person 
who  was  in  another  State  at  the  time  of 
the  murder,  who  not  only  did  not  see 
the  crime  committed,  but  who  knew 
nothing  about  its  occurrence.  Mark 
well  your  words,  Sammy  ;  on  them  rests 
a  human  life.  A  defenceless  man  to 
whom  life  is  sweet  lies  now  in  the  String- 
town  County  jail  —  one  from  whom  no 
man  has  the  right  unlawfully  to  take  one 
bright  day.  Mark  well,  too,  the  posi 
tion  of  your  old  friend,  the  Judge,  who 
begs  you  to  err  on  the  side  of  humanity 
rather  than  do  a  wrong  in  the  belief  that 
science  is  infallible.  Give  this  helpless 
man  the  benefit  of  every  doubt,  whether 
it  humiliates  your  science,  disturbs  your 
173 


Red  Head 

dogmatism,    or    checks    your    ambitioi 
In  after  years  you  will   find   you    have 
made  no  mistake." 

I  arose  to  go,  without  conceding  that 
there  was  'even  a  chance  for  me  to  err  01 
relent.  At  the  door  the  judge  held  my 
hand  long.  "  Sammy,  there  will  be 
trouble  next  week."  His  voice  sank 
very  low,  almost  to  a  whisper,  as  his 
lips  spoke  into  my  ear :  "  Keep  what  I 
say  in  confidence.  The  old  man  you 
saw  leave  the  grocery  is  named  Hoi- 
comb  ;  he  came  to  me  last  night  and  I 
drew  up  his  will.  He  left  all  his  pos 
sessions,  both  real  and  personal,  to  Red 
Head  and  Susie,  share  and  share  alike ; 
but,  said  he,  f  In  case  Red  Head  dies 
—  and  he  may  die  suddenly,  but  will 
never  be  hung  —  it  must  all  go  to  the 
girl  Susie.'  There  '11  be  trouble  in 
Stringtown  County  Court  next  week, 
Sammy." 


"There'll  Be  Trouble'1 

I  attempted  to  withdraw  my  hand, 
but  the  speaker  held  it  firmly,  and 
continued  : 

"  This  is  Kentucky,  not  Ohio ;  Ken 
tucky,  Sammy." 


CHAPTER    XVIII 
STRINGTOWN    COUNTY    COURT 

THE  morning  of  the  trial  dawned 
and  Professor  Drew  entered 
the  bus  that  had  been  engaged 
to  take  the  two  attorneys,  the  judge,  a 
few  close  friends  of  these  gentlemen  — 
a  few  jurymen  among  them — and  him 
self  to  court. 

They  rode  in  silence  as  concerned  the 
chemist,  who  spoke  no  word,  nor  did  he 
listen  to  his  companions,  who  passed 
their  pleasantries  back  and  forth  as  Ken 
tucky  men  will,  whether  they  journey  to 
a  picnic,  a  wedding,  or  a  hanging. 

The  judge  took  his  place  exactly  as 
he  had  done  for  more  than  a  generation. 
Time  had  enfeebled  him  physically,  but 

that  fine  intellectual  face  and  placid  brow 

176 


Stringtown  County  Court 

were  surely  the  more  impressive  by  rea 
son  of  the  lines  that  age  had  deepened,  and 
the  touch  of  brighter  silver  the  years  left 
upon  his  snow-white  beard  and  hair. 

The  jury  was  in  its  place,  while  before 
each  man  stood  that  ever-present  box 
of  sawdust,  and  from  the  movement  of 
their  jaws,  or  the  pouched  cheek,  it  could 
be  seen  that  none  needed  to  be  instructed 
concerning  the  object  of  these  utensils. 
Drew  seated  himself  by  the  side  of  the 
prosecuting  attorney  and  then  raised  his 
eyes  to  the  chair  where  sat  the  man 
charged  with  murder.  His  hair  was  red 
as  of  yore,  sorrel  red,  like  no  other  hair ; 
his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  chemist's  face, 
those  same  little  yellow  eyes ;  his  ears 
were  red,  and  that  florid  face  covered  with 
freckles  ;  lanker  and  longer  than  before 
was  that  crimson  neck.  The  chemist 
looked  him  squarely  in  the  face,  then  his 
glance,  not  Red  Head's,  fell  to  the  floor. 

12  177 


\ 

/  v 


Red  Head 

When  the  next  witness  raised  his  eyes 
they  caught  the  form  of  the  sheriff,  who 
with  a  brace  of  pistols  in  his  leather  belt 
stood  close  to  the  prisoner,  and  then 
they  turned  to  the  audience.  The  room 
was  filled  with  men,  and  no  one  need  be 
told  that  they  came  from  both  near  and 
far.  Many  Stringtown  men  were  there, 
too,  and  there  sat  the  tall  man  from  the 
mountains  of  Kentucky.  In  full  view 
of  the  prisoner  was  he,  yet  neither 
seemed  to  notice  the  other.  He  was 
flanked  on  either  side  by  a  line  of  men 
dressed  in  the  same  manner  as  himself; 
indeed,  he  formed  the  central  figure  in 
a  group  distinct  from  Stringtown  folks, 
but  each  seemed  indifferent  to  the  pres 
ence  of  the  other. 

The  case  opened  in  the  usual  way. 
As  the  trial  progressed  it  could  be  seen 
that  the  judge  proposed  to  confine  both 

parties  to  a  strict  statement  of  fact,  for 

178 


Stringtown  County  Court 

every  attempt  to  interject  side  issues,  or 
to  go  into  personalities,  was  skilfully 
defeated  by  his  rulings ;  yet  the  day 
passed  before  the  prosecutor  was  ready 
to  call  Professor  Drew  as  a  witness. 
When  time  for  adjournment  came  that 
night  the  prosecution  had  proven : 

First.  That  a  few  days  previous  to 
his  death,  Mr.  Nordman  and  Red  Head 
had  quarrelled  as  they  had  often  done 
before.  The  witness  who  testified  to 
this  heard  every  word  of  the  altercation, 
and  also  heard  Red  Head  swear  that 
he  would  be  revenged. 

Second.  The  village  druggist  testified, 
and  proved  by  his  poison  book,  that 
he  sold  Red  Head  one-eighth  ounce 
of  strychnine.  The  prisoner  stated, 
however,  that  the  poison  was  for  Mr. 
Nordman,  who  desired  to  put  it  in  the 
carcass  of  a  lamb  that  had  been  killed 
by  foxes. 


Red  Head 

Third.  The  servants  testified  that 
Mr.  Nordman  arose  in  good  health  the 
morning  of  his  death,  took  a  dram  of 
bitters,  ate  a  light  breakfast  as  was  his 
habit,  and  that  Red  Head  alone  break 
fasted  with  him.  Very  soon  thereafter 
he  was  stricken  with  a  severe  pain  in 
the  stomach  and  then,  by  his  direction, 
they  gave  him  a  dose  of  laudanum, 
which  was  twice  repeated. 

Fourth.  The  physician  testified  that 
he  found  that  Mr.  Nordman  had  been 
in  great  pain,  which,  however,  had  been 
quieted  by  laudanum  before  his  visit. 
He  administered  an  emetic,  to  which  the 
patient  did  not  respond. 

This  closed  the  evidence  of  the  day, 
and  the  chemist  was  informed  by  the 
prosecution  that  his  testimony  would  be 
taken  immediately  after  court  convened 
the  next  morning. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  CONVICTION  OF  RED    HEAD 

PASSIVE  and  composed,  the  Judge 
again  took  the  bench,  apparently 
as  unconscious  of  persona]  re 
sponsibility  as  any  of  the  spectators. 
Professor  Drew  seated  himself  by  the 
side  '  of  the  prosecutor  and  proceeded 
to  arrange  his  specimens,  reagents,  and 
apparatus.  The  eyes  of  all  in  the  court 
room  were,  now  concentrated  on  the 
chemist,  even  those  of  the  prisoner, 
who,  scarce  ten  feet  distant,  sat  beside 
the  armed  sheriff.  Seemingly  absorbed 
in  manipulative  operations,  the  chemist 
noticed  every  movement  of  those  about; 
from  time  to  time  he  raised  his  eyes 
only  to  catch  the  fixed  gaze  of  whom- 


Red  Head 

soever  they  rested  on,  wheresoever  they 
turned, — jurymen,  sheriff,  attorneys  for 
the  prosecution  and  for  the  defence,  Hoi- 
comb  from  the  mountains,  Red  Head 
and  Susie,  all,  —  all  but  one,  Judge  El- 
ford.  He  seemed  unconcerned. 

Again  we  turn  to  the  note-book  of 
Professor  Drew  for  a  record  of  those 
events. 

That  Judge  Elford  waited  my  conven 
ience  I  knew,  and  that  this  famous  case 
had  drawn  itself  down  and  focussed  itself 
on  me  I  also  knew.  Amid  intense  still 
ness,  friend  and  foe,  faction,  feudist, 
judge,  prisoner,  and  jury  were  awaiting 
my  voice.  I  turned  my  eyes  to  the  jury. 
Not  a  mouth  was  in  motion ;  firmly 
set  each  pair  of  jaws  ;  never  before  had 
such  a  thing  been  known  in  Stringtown 
county-seat. 

The  last  touch  was  given  the  vessels 
before  me,  and  then  I  whispered  to  the 


O   to  Stringtown  as  the  girl 
asks,  Holcomb"  —  Page  165 


The  Conviction  of  Red  Headi 

attorney  by  whose  side  I  sat,  "  I  am 
ready,"  and  raised  my  eyes  to  the  face  of 
the  judge,  who,  catching  the  movement, 
bade  me  stand.  A  strange  innovation  did 
he  then  make,  for  instead  of  turning  me 
over  to  the  clerk  to  be  sworn,  as  had 
been  the  case  with  all  other  witnesses,  he 
too  arose.  Before  him  I  held  up  my 
hand,  and  from  him  came  in  deep, 
measured  tones  that  impressive  oath  : 
"  Do  you  solemnly  swear  to  tell  the  truth, 
the  whole  truth  and  nothing  but  the 
truth  ?  " 

"I  do." 

I  looked  at  Red  Head  ;  his  gaze  was 
fixed  on  me,  our  eyes  met.  I  saw  in 
them  the  full  measure  of  hate  I  felt  in  my 
own  heart,  and  I  said  to  myself:  "  If 
that  fellow  does  not  hang  he  will  shoot 
me  dead  when  next  we  meet." 

Point  by  point  the  prosecution  drew 

from  me  the  statement  that  I  had  exam- 

183 


//f 


Red  Head 

ined  the  suspected  liquid  for  all  known 
poisons,  both  inorganic  and  organic. 
Then  I  was  led  to  the  reactions  of  strych 
nine  and  to  its  location  among  the 
poisons.  These  I  gave  in  detail,  the 
particulars  of  which  need  not  be  repeated. 
Finally  I  was  asked  : 

"  Did  you  get  those  reactions  from  the 
substance  tested  ?  " 

"  I  did." 

"  Have  you  specimens  of  the  sub 
stance  ?  " 

« I  have." 

"  Can  you  show  the  jury  and  the 
court  the  group  test  for  alkaloids,  and 
also  the  color  reactions  of  strychnine  ?  " 

"lean." 

"  I  ask,  then,  that  Professor  Drew  be 
allowed  to  corroborate  his  testimony  by 
experiments  that  will  substantiate  his 
word ; "  and  on  this  point,  after  a  legal 

battle  with  the  attorneys  for  the  defence, 

184 


/'/ 


• 


S 
*'-*. 


.    .:-  •** 
$f« 


-'• 


.'- 


The  Conviction  of  Red  Head 

the  Judge  ruled  in  our  favor.  Then  I 
made  the  tests  for  alkaloids  with  the 
group  reagents  showing  the  presence  of 
alkaloids.  Next  I  made  the  respective 
color  test  with  morphine,  which  did  not 
respond,  and  then  with  strychnine,  which 
did,  each  juryman  craning  his  neck  dose 
about  me  in  order  to  get  a  good  view 
of  the  purple  or  blue-violet  color  that 
sprang  into  existence  in  that  porcelain 
dish. 

"  That  is  the  reaction  of  strychnine," 
I  said,  and  supported  the  assertion  by 
comparison  with  a  crystal  'of  pure 
strychnine.  ' 

Then  came  the  final  question :  "  Tou 
swear  that  you  found  strychnine  in  the 
contents  of  that  stomach  ?  " 

"  I  do." 

Opposing  counsel  now  viciously  as 
sailed  me,  but  to  no  avail,  for  I  brought 
forth  my  authorities  and  showed  that  this 


Red  Head 

test  was  accepted  by  chemists  of  the  world, 
and  that  all  considered  it  conclusive  ;  and 
at  last,  triumphant,  I  was  dismissed. 

Judge  Elford  now  came  down  from  his 
chair.  No  longer  the  personal  friend 
of  the  widow's  boy  Samuel  Drew,  but  a 
man  intent  on  doing  justice  to  one  and 
all.  Gone  were  his  words  of  personal 
advice ;  justice  held  him  bound  to  his 
trust.  "  Repeat  the  tests  that  I  may  see 
them  close,"  he  said.  He  stood  over 
me,  and  side  by  side,  both  with  strych 
nine  and  the  suspected  substance,  I  gave 
the  test  for  alkaloids  and  also  the  color 
test  for  strychnine.  Again  I  fancied  that 
with  one  the  color  remained  more  per 
manent  than  with  the  other,  but  surely 
the  violet-blue  color  came  with  both. 

"  Will  no  other  substance  produce 
that  reaction  ?  " 

"  None." 

"  This  is  a  great  world,  there  are  many 


The  Conviction  of  Red  Head 

countries  in  it.  Do  none  of  the  thou 
sands  of  forms  of  vegetation  in  these 
various  lands  act  as  does  this  substance  ?  " 
He  spoke  into  my  very  ear. 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge.  Science 
says  c  No.'  ' 

"  Might  not  some  mixture  you  have 
not  tried  turn  purple  and  fade  away, 
something  free  from  strychnine  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  The  servants  administered  a  dose  of 
laudanum,  and  laudanum  contains  mor 
phine.  Is  not  morphine  an  alkaloid  ?  ' 

"  Yes,  I  have  testified  to  the  fact  that 
I  also  obtained  the  color  reaction  of 
morphine,  but  that  alkaloid  will  not  give 
this  reaction.  Morphine  is  present  here, 
so  is  strychnine." 

"  Could  not  morphine  be  associated 
with  some  unknown  body  in  the  stomach 
and  then  react  in  this  way  ?  " 

"  Impossible." 

187 


Red  Head 

"  Have  you  tried  this  test  with  every 
plant,  shrub,  tree,  leaf,  root,  bark,  fruit, 
that  grows  ? " 

"  No,  sir  !  " 

"  Have  you  tried  it  with  all  that  grow 
in  Stringtown  County?  " 

"  No,  sir  !  " 

"  Have  you  applied  this  test  to  every 
form  of  herb,  fruit,  vegetable,  grass,  leaf, 
that  grows  on  the  farm  of  the  late  Mr. 
Nordman  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  !  " 

"  Or  in  his  dooryard  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  !  " 

"  Can  you  then,  in  the  face  of  the  fact 
that  you  have  not  tested  these  myriads 
of  other  substances,  swear  that  this  must 
be  strychnine  ?  " 

"  On  the  strength  of  these  authorities" 
—  I  pointed  to  my  books  —  "and  on  the 
fact  that  no  other  known  bodies  produce 
the  same  reactions,  I  can." 

1 88 


The  Conviction  of  Red  Head 

"  Would  it  not  have  been  well  to  get 
from  the  contents  of  that  stomach  enough 
of  the  pure  strychnine  to  kill  a  rabbit, 
and  show  its  poisonous  action  in  that 
way  ?  Surely  if  strychnine  in  amount 
sufficient  to  kill  a  man  is  present,  your 
science  should  enable  you  to  extract 
enough  to  paralyze  a  frog  or  rabbit." 

"  I  had  not  enough  of  the  material." 

"You  are  willing"  —  and  now  the 
Judge  spoke  very  slowly  and  delib 
erately  —  "  you  are  willing,  then,  Samuel 
Drew,  before  Almighty  God,  knowing 
that  the  life  of  a  human  being  hangs 
on  your  words,  to  swear  that  strychnine, 
only  strychnine,  nothing  but  strychnine, 
could  have  produced  that  violet-blue 
reaction?  " 

"  I  am." 

The  eyes  of  the  man  of  justice  fell 
upon  his  book  and  he  made  a  note.  I 

glanced  towards  the  prisoner ;  he  sneered 
189 


Red  Head 

in  return.  Was  it  merely  my  fancy  that, 
as  if  defying  me  to  the  last,  he  slowly 
raised  his  ears,  a  boyish  trick  with  which 
he  had  been  wont  to  drive  me  to  a 
frenzy,  in  those  long-gone-by  school 
days?  Then  the  Judge,  very  slowly, 
asked:  "You  prescribed  laudanum  and 
golden  seal  for  the  dead  man.  Ton." 
He  emphasized  the  you.  "  Could  not 
constituents  of  that  prescription  give  a 
purple  reaction  ?  " 

"  No." 

The    Judge    looked    me    in    the   eye. 

"  The  witness  may  be  excused,"  he 
said ;  then  I  let  my  gaze  fall  upon 
the  floor.  After  the  cross-examination, 
which  did  not  in  any  way  break  the 
force  of  the  evidence,  the  case  was  ready 
for  the  defence.  The  Commonwealth, 
waiving  rebuttal,  presented  no  expert 
evidence,  and  thus  it  went  to  the  jury, 
the  prosecution  having  proved  every 


The  Conviction  of  Red  Head 

point,  even,  seemingly,  to  the  chemical 
test. 

I  do  not  like  to  reflect  over  the  ad 
dress  of  the  attorney  for  the  defence. 
He  depicted  the  unfortunate  position  of 
the  homeless,  helpless  young  man  before 
us ;  he  pictured  my  conspicuous  place 
in  life ;  he  drew  the  sympathies  of  that 
audience  to  the  prisoner,  while  upon  me 
he  directed  their  ill-will.  Hatred  flashed 
from  many  an  eye  as  he  took  that  little 
porcelain  dish  in  his  hand  and  said :  "  This 
man  comes  here  from  the  North ;  he 
touches  a  liquid  with  a  bit  of  stuff,  and 
it  turns  blue,  violet-blue.  He  asks  you, 
men  of  Stringtown  County,  to  hang  a 
resident'  of  Stringtown  County,  because 
this  blue  color  comes  in  a  dish.  Ken- 
tuckians,  did  ever  Kentucky  court  wit 
ness  such  a  farce?  When  a  man  plunges 
a  knife  into  another,  a  witness  may  swear 

to  the  fact,  for  that  is  evidence.     When 
191 


Red  Head 

a  witness  swears  that  he  saw  the  flash 
of  the  gun  or  pistol,  and  saw  the  victim 
fall,  that  is  competent  testimony ;  but 
when  a  man  comes  from  afar  and  touches 
a  dish  with  a  glass  rod  and  asks  you  to 
hang  a  Kentuckian  because  a  spot  of 
porcelain  turns  purple,  that  is  audacious 
presumption,  and  is  neither  evidence  nor 
testimony.  Kentuckians,  I  swear  by  all 
that  is  holy  that,  if  you  become  a  party 
to  this  monstrous  crime,  a  few  dollars 
hereafter  will  hire  a  horde  of  hungry 
chemists  from  the  North  to  show  a 
color  in  a  dish  to  whoever  cares  wrongly 
to  gain  an  inheritance  or  wishes  to  hang 
an  enemy.  There  will  scarcely  be  time 
to  keep  the  gallows  oiled,  so  rapid  will 
be  the  hangings  in  Kentucky.  No  rich 
man  will  rest  in  his  grave  with  a  whole 
stomach,  for  these  ghouls  will  find  chem 
ists  to  swear  that  all  who  die  in  bed  are 

poisoned." 

192 


The  Conviction  of  Red  Head 

Turning  to  me,  he  shook  his  finger  in 
my  face.  "There  sits  a  man  who  once 
lived  in  Stringtown,  who  should  love 
his  village  and  his  State,  but  who  comes 
back  to  us  to  give  evidence  to  hang  the 
companion  of  his  youth.  He  and  the 
prisoner  were  boys  together ;  they  sat  in 
the  same  schoolhouse,  played  in  the 
same  schoolyard,  lived  in  the  same  vil 
lage.  One  is  a  man,  the  other  a  chemist! 
but  I  say  in  all  earnestness  that  I  would 
rather  be  the  innocent  Kentuckian  who 
hangs  —  the  man^  my  friends  —  than 
the  renegade  who  returns  from  the 
North  to  give  testimony  such  as  this 
against  one  of  our  fellow-citizens  !  " 

The  attack  was  vicious,  and  I  realized 
that  his  words  could  move  men  to 
violence  had  no  violence  been  pre 
viously  contemplated. 

Why  did  Judge  Elford  allow  this 
personal  attack  ?  some  may  ask.  It 
'3  193 


Red  Head 

was  not  his  place  to  prevent  the  de 
fence  from  breaking  my  testimony  by 
any  method  possible ;  and  when  the 
attorney  was  through,  I  realized  that, 
regardless  of  the  verdict,  I  was  dis 
graced  in  my  old  home ;  and  I  felt,  too, 
that  men  present  were  ready,  perhaps 
by  violence,  to  take  the  part  of  Red 
Head,  should  the  jury  decide  that  he 
must  hang. 

But  the  closing  argument  of  the  pros 
ecution  modified  conditions  somewhat, 
and  the  charge  of  the  Judge  to  the  jury 
was  so  clear  and  comprehensive  as  to 
leave  no  cause  of  complaint  by  either 
party. 

"  The  evidence  is  circumstantial,  but 
it  is  necessarily  so  in  cases  such  as  this, 
for  those  who  poison  others  are  never 
seen  to  do  the  act.  They  are  like  thugs 
who  lie  concealed  in  the  night,  and  deal 

a  man  a  blow  from  behind.     And  yet," 
194 


The  Conviction  of  Red  Head 

he  added,  "  not  only  must  the  jury  be 
convinced  beyond  a  doubt  that  the 
prisoner  bought  the  strychnine,  but 
that  strychnine  was  in  the  stomach, 
and  that  the  prisoner  administered  it. 
If  such  has  been  proved  by  the  testi 
mony  offered,  the  prisoner  is  as  much 
subject  to  the  severest  penalty  of  the 
law  as  though  he  had  fired  a  bullet  into 
the  victim." 

Much  more  did  this  learned  man  say 
to  those  who  held  the  life  of  the  pris 
oner  in  their  hands.  Coolly,  impartially, 
clearly,  was  the  charge  given.  After  the 
Judge  concluded,  the  jury  retired,  and 
then  we  .sat  awaiting  their  return  —  sat 
until  the  evening's  shadows  were  nearly 
on  us. 

No  longer   an    object   of  attention,   I 
changed  my  place  to  one  less  conspicu 
ous.       I    drew    my    chair    back    into    a 
'95 


fS^HI 


Red  Head 

corner  made  by  the  witness-box  and 
the  prisoner's  raised  platform,  and  from 
that  position  found  that  I  could  observe 
the  entire  room.  To  my  left  sat  the 
Judge,  to  my  right,  in  the  second  row 
of  spectators,  sat  Susie,  and  directly  in« 
front  of  me  the  prisoner.  By  his  side 
stood  the  sheriff,  with  exposed  pistols 
ready  for  a  touch,  and  beyond  these 
two,  nearly  in  line  with  them,  sat  old 
man  Holcomb  amid  his  men  from  the 
mountains.  When  I  looked  at  Red 
Head,  I  could  also  see  the  sheriff  and 
Holcomb,  for  they  were  all  in  a  line 
and  covered  by  the  same  field  of  vision. 
Buzzing  voices  broke  now  upon  the  ear, 
for  during  the  recess  the  tongues  of  the 
men  of  Stringtown  and  of  Stringtown 
County  were  loosed.  I  fancied,  too, 
that  many  coats  that  had  been  buttoned 
previously  were  now  open,  but  that  may 

have  been  my  fancy. 

196 


The  Conviction  of  Red  Head 

How  would  these  men  take  the  ver 
dict  of  the  jury  in  case  it  was  against 
the  prisoner  ?  What  would  be  their 
programme?  I  looked  at  Holcomb. 
He  made  no  movement,  nor  did  any 
of  his  clan.  Red  Head  sat  impassive  ; 
Susie's  eyes  were  downcast.  Judge  El- 
ford  rested  his  head  on  his  hand,  and 
tapped  the  desk  gently  with  a  pencil ; 
the  armed  sheriff  stood  upright  and 
still.  Then  at  last  came  a  message  to 
the  Judge,  who  sent  back  an  order,  and 
soon  the  jury  filed  slowly  into  the  room 
and  stood  in  line  while  the  foreman 
presented  a  folded  paper: 

"  We  do  hereby  find  the  prisoner 
guilty  of  murder  in  the  first  degree." 

Then  Judge  Elford  arose,  and  as  he 
did  so  I  caught  his  glance,  and  so  did 
others,  for  he  swept  his  eyes  about  the 
room,  resting  them  now  and  then  on  a 

face.     Finally  they  turned   to   the  pris- 

197 


Red  Head 

oner.     "Stand  up,  prisoner!"  and   Red 
Head  arose. 

Slowly,  distinctly,  the  Judge  pro 
nounced  the  sentence  of  death.  Had  I 
been  the  murderer  the  message  could 
not  have  affected  or  shocked  me  more. 
Not  a  muscle  did  Red  Head  move,  not 
a  tremor  in  his  frame,  no  evidence  of 
fear  or  shame  did  he  exhibit.  And  when 
the  words  were  spoken,  "  I  do  hereby 
sentence  you  to  be  hanged  by  the  neck 
until  you  are  dead,  and  may  God  have 
mercy  on  your  soul  ! "  he  gave  no  show 
of  emotion.  But  I  saw  him  glance  now 
toward  old  Holcomb,  who  then  awk 
wardly  arose,  a  picturesque  figure.  Amid 
intense  silence  he  addressed  the  Judge. 


198 


i  '  //  f  f  (  /^jgwTs.  w'/y'^W    1/V  /     f '-     ^ 


'  •<>!/ 


-' .  -.  :  ^   '  •  •  x      ^< 


I 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE  VISION  OF  RED  HEAD 

S  thar  no  hopes  fer  the  boy,  Jedge  ? 
Kin  an  ole  man  from  the  moun'ns 
do  nuthin'  fer  the  lad  ?  " 
"  Nothing." 

"  Ef  I  go    down   ter  whar   he  stands 
and  take  his  place,  will  yo'  let  the  boy 
go  free  ? " 
"  I  cannot." 

"Et's  a -life  yo'  wants,  yo'  man  of  law, 
a  life  fer  a  life,  but  et  seems  ter  me  thet 
et  ain't  fair  ter  take  a  young  life  fer  thet 
of  old  man  Nordman,  who  hev  lived 
his'n  away.  I  'm  old,  Jedge,  and  I  'm 
the  last  of  my  faction.  Thar  ain't  no 

hopes  fer  me,  but  the  boy  hes  prospects." 

199 


MTs       />  £ 


Red  Head 

The  Judge  shook  his  head. 

At  this  point  Red  Head  held  up  his 
hand.  "Jedge,  kin  I  ask  Holcomb  a 
question  ?" 

"Certainly." 

Turning  his  gaze  on  the  mountaineer, 
Red  Head  said:  "Et's  been  a  mighty 
long  time  sence  I  saw  the  old  cabin, 
Holcomb,  but  the  reason  wa'n't  'cause 
I  war  afeard  of  no  one." 

"The  cabin  's  nigh  about  rotted  down, 
Red." 

"  How 's  thet  rose-bush  befo'  the 
door  ? " 

"  Et  's  thar  yit.  I  waited  fer  yo'  ter 
come  and  stand  up  fer  the  white,  but  yo' 
did  n't  come." 

"  Hev  you  been  over  ter  the  buryin' 
ground  of  late  ?  " 

"Yes.  The  day  befo'  I  started  fer 
Stringtown  I  went  out  ter  say  good-bye 
ter  all  the  folks  livin'  and  dead.  Thet's 


The  Vision  ot  Red  Head 

a  mighty  long  row  of  Red  Heads  lyin' 
next  the  No'th  line." 

"  Thar  's  jest  es  long  a  row  of  Hoi- 
combs  next  the  South  line,"  was  Red 
Head's  reply.  Then  in  a  lower  voice, 
he  asked  :  "  How  'bout  the  old  witch  ?  " 

Holcomb  dropped  his  eyes.  For  a 
moment  he  made  no  reply.  "  She  's 
livin'  yit." 

"  Of  co'se  she 's  livin',  fer  witches 
never  die.  What  I  wants  ter  know  is 
what  she  's  did  of  late." 

"  Nuth'n'." 

"  Holcomb,  I  Ve  seen  Witch  Merrie 
sence  you  left  the  moun'ns.  I  saw  her 
last  night.  She 's  livin'  yet,  but  says 
she'll  'not  be  livin'  long.  But  she's 
lyin',  fer  witches  don't  die." 

"  Yo'  saw  her  last  night,  Red  ?  How 
could  yo'  when  she 's  in  her  moun'n 
cave  and  yo'  war  locked  in  Stringtown 
County  jail  ?  " 


Red  Head 

"  Witches  kin  go  past  doahs  what 's 
locked,  er  through  brick  walls,  Holcomb. 
Yo'  knows  es  much.  I  don't  know  how 
she  got  in,  but  when  I  op'ned  my  eyes 
long  'bout  midnight,  thar  she  stood. 
Lord,  Holcomb,  but  she  war  wrinkled 
and  bent.  Pow'ful  slow  she  moved  ter 
whar  I  lay  and  put  her  face  close  ter 
mine.  It  war  dark,  but  I  saw  her  like 
es  ef  et  war  day.  '  Ha,  ha !  '  she 
laughed ;  '  and  so  the  red  and  white 
roses  are  ter  thorn  each  other  ter  the 
last!  ha,  ha!'  Et  made  me  shiver, 
Holcomb." 

"  What  did  she  mean,  Red  ?  " 
"  I  don't  know.  '  Go  back,  old  Witch 
Merrie,'  I  said,  £  back  ter  yer  cave.' 
(  Ha,  ha  !  '  she  laughed ;  ( to-morrow  '11 
see  th'  last  of  the  Reds  and  the  Holcombs.' 
Et  made  me  shiver,  Holcomb,  and  I 
shet  my  eyes.  When  I  op'ned  'em  she 
war  gone." 


'HE  right  hand  of  the  old  man  suddenly 
drew  a  pistol.  —  Page  204 


The  Vision  of  Red  Head 

Then  the  Judge  spoke.  Strange  that 
the  man  of  law  should  join  in  this  dia 
logue.  "  It  was  only  a  dream,  Red." 

"Jedge,"  said  Red  Head,  "you 
knows  a  heap  'bout  law  and  sech,  but 
we  moun'n  folks  knows  thet  witches  sees 
what 's  goin'  ter  happen,  and  thet  they 
kin  come  and  go  in  the  night  whenever 
er  wharever  they  wants  ter."  Then 
to  Holcomb:  "  Holcomb,  I  'm  wond'rin' 
what  she  meant  by  them  words  'bout  the 
last  of  the  Reds  and  the  Holcombs. 
Thet 's  all." 

Holding  out  his  left  hand  and  point 
ing  his  long  finger  at  the  upright  pris 
oner,  whom  he  faced,  the  old  man  slowly 
said  :  "  Jedge,  he  and  his  'n  killed  every 
Holcomb  but  me,  and  me  and  mine 
killed  every  moun'n  Red  but  him. 
Thar  's  a  feud  twixt  him  and  me  and  et 
must  be  fought  ter  the  end  fer  the  honor 

of  the  two  fam'lies  what  's  dead." 
203 


Red  Head 

Then  came  a  movement  so  quick  that 
I,  who  had  both  Holcomb  and  the  pris 
oner  in  line,  hardly  caught  its  import 
before  the  deed  was  done.  The  right 
hand  of  the  old  man  suddenly  drew  a 
pistol  from  some  unseen  pocket,  and 
with  one  sweep  of  the  arm  discharged  it 
full  into  the  chest  of  Red  Head,  who, 
with  eye  close  fixed  on  the  speaker,  as 
that  movement  was  begun,  caught  one 
of  the  weapons  from  out  the  belt  of  the 
sheriff.  Younger,  quicker,  and  more  ex 
pert,  his  hand  was  not  less  sure ;  the  two 
flashes  lighted  the  room  as  if  but  one, 
the  two  reports  were  simultaneous. 

A  drop  of  blood  sprang  into  view, 
just  in  the  centre  of  the  forehead  of  the 
old  man,  who  fell  lifeless  into  the  arms 
of  his  companions.  The  prisoner  stood 
upright;  his  face  for  once  turned  white, 
his  lips  moved  slowly,  and  as  by  a  mighty 

effort,  he  said:  "  The  feud  is  over,  Hol- 

204 


1'"% 


The  Vision  of  Red  Head 

comb."  He  struggled  to  stand,  and 
murmured:  "I  didn't  pizen  Uncle 
Nordman  ;  I  shoots  like  a  man  ;  et  's  a 
lie,  I  say."  Then  he  sank  slowly  into 
his  seat,  raised  his  head  by  one  last 
effort,  and  muttered  :  "  Bury  me  b'side 
little  Sissie  in  the  moun'ns,  and  bury  the 
doll  and  a  white  rose  with  me." 

I,  who  sat  near  him,  heard  every  word 
and  saw  every  movement.  That  flash 
came  from  a  weapon  which  did  not  rest, 
that  bullet  went  straight  to  its  mark  in 
the  dusk  of  evening  from  a  moving 
pistol ;  and  then  I  thought  of  the  little 
Red  Head  of  old  and  the  five  bullet- 
holes  encircling  a  centre  shot  on  a  mark 
in  the  Stringtown  schoolyard  in  the  years 
that  had  passed. 


EPILOGUE 


THE  story  of  "Red  Head,"  now 
told  consecutively  for  the  first 
time,  needs,  for  those  who  have 
not  read  "  Stringtown  on  the  Pike,"  a 
brief  reference  concerning  a  discovery 
subsequently  made  by  Chemist  Samuel 
Drew,  whose  remorse  thereat  was  such 
as  to  lead  him  to  commit  suicide  by 
means  of  a  strange  poison,  as  yet  un 
known  to  science.  This  discovery  was 
that,  as  intuitively  surmised  by  Judge 
Elford,  a  mixture  in  proper  proportion 
of  morphine  and  hydrastine,  the  white 
alkaloid  of  golden  seal,  will  produce  a 
blue-violet  or  purple  reaction,  when 
treated  by  the  reagents  employed  in  the 

usual  test  for  strychnine,  which  brought 

207 


Epilogue 

about  the  conviction  of  Red  Head.  This 
in  itself  might  not  have  been  sufficient 
to  lead  him  to  this  fatal  step,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  fact  that  his  own  prescrip 
tion  given  Mr.  Nordman,  as  related  in 
these  pages,  had  supplied  these  two  sub 
stances.  Thus,  not  only  had  Professor 
Drew,  by  reason  of  faulty  testimony, 
been  instrumental  in  convicting  an  inno 
cent  man,  but  he  had  also  served  the 
lamentable  part  of  supplying  the  com 
promising  compound  on  which  his  ex 
pert  testimony  rested.  Brooding  over 
this  wrong,  which  might  have  been 
evaded  had  the  faction  of  far-seeing 
Judge  Elford  been  taken,  finally  led 
Professor  Drew  to  seek  an  early  death 
by  the  art  of  the  profession  in  which  he 
was  an  expert. 


t 


A     000672773 


